EleventyOne Years: Too Short a Time Book One
by dreamflower02
Summary: So far as I know, no one has ever written a "biography" of Bilbo Baggins. This is my attempt to do so. For one-hundred-and-eleven years, Bilbo Baggins dwelt in Bag End, in Hobbiton of the Shire, save for a brief journey into the Wide World. This is his story. Book One: The First Fifty Years. WIP, updated on Mondays.
1. Coming into the World

(So far as I can find out, no one has ever written a definitive "biography" of the life of Bilbo Baggins. This is my attempt to do so.

It will be grounded firmly in the fanon space of "my" Shire-universe, and there may occasionally be passages or quotations you may recognize from some of my other stories. I will try to keep that to a minimum as much as I can. Also, I will be using the two-thirds age conversion for hobbits that I have always used.

I hope all of you will enjoy this story of young Bilbo and how he grew up to become the hobbit who followed Gandalf and thirteen Dwarves _"off into the Blue for mad adventures"_! )

Eleventy-one Years: Too Short a Time by Dreamflower

**Book One: The First Fifty Years**

(A/N: This chapter is mostly Belladonna's viewpoint of the events of "One Fine Autumn Day"—which was Bung's POV- with a few excursions into other POVs where appropriate)

**Chapter 1: Coming into the World**

_22 Halimath, S.R. 1290_

Belladonna crossed her arms over her swollen belly, and gave an angry snort. She felt bloated and uncomfortable. Her feet hurt, her back hurt, and she had no intention of being reasonable! "It's your fault, you know!" she snapped at her husband.

Bungo sighed, and hung his head. "I'm sorry, my love. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She pursed her lips and turned her head away. "Just leave me alone."

He didn't say anything else. She waited, but the silence hung in the air, and then there was the softest of snicks as the door closed. "Bungo?" she said meekly.

But when she turned her head, he was gone.

Miserable, she burst into tears. Her abominable temper had got the best of her once again. _You would think I would learn, she thought. He won't fight with me at all! We can't have a good argument, even when he knows I'm being a complete fool!_

No, Bungo would simply retreat when she was angry, and by the time he returned she was always contrite and sorry.

She wept for a long time. It truly was her fault she was so uncomfortable. It was she who had insisted on this visit to the Great Smials this close to her time, and it was she who insisted they take the pothole-ridden post road instead of the longer road by way of Michel Delving. Finally she was wept out. She started to get up to go to the washbasin and splash water on her face, and a sudden pang made her sit right back down again.

Oh.

Oh dear. She drew in a deep breath, and stood up again. Carefully, she made her way to the door of her room and opened it, clutching it and leaning against the frame. "Mother?" she called plaintively. "Mother!"

Adamanta Chubb Took had watched the silent and dejected figure of her son-in-law pass her like a ghost as went on his way. He was probably headed outside to walk in the gardens. She often marveled at the match between the level-headed and humble Baggins and her fiery daughter who was as Tookish as they came. _But,_ she smiled,_ time will tell. When we first wed, Gerontius was the high-strung and temperamental Took and I was the level-headed and predictable Chubb- but after all these years we've rubbed off on one another. Now he is level-headed and practical, too, and I am occasionally as unreasonable and foolish as a born Took!_

"Mother? Mother!"

The alarm in her daughter's voice brought Adamanta up sharply. That was not simply the misery of a lass who's had a row with her husband!

She made her way quickly to her daughter's side, noting the puffy face and red eyes. But those eyes were touched with fear, not sorrow.

"Mother? I think I had a pang. But it's a little soon..."

"Only by a couple of weeks, dear. And it may be false labour."

"How can I tell?"

Adamanta shook her head at the frightened face. It was hard to cast her mind back all the way to her first time, and how frightened she was- eleven other children, most of whom had made their way into the world much more easily than the first, had rather dimmed the memory of that first difficult time. She placed an arm around her daughter's shoulders, and led her back into the room. "We won't know for a while, until the pangs begin to come more closely together. If you have a few more, I will send for Mistress Posy and Mistress Matilda." Mistress Posy was the Great Smial's resident midwife, and Mistress Matilda was the family healer.

"Thank you, Mother," Bella whispered, as her mother tucked her into the bed. "I was horrid to Bungo," she confessed in a sad little voice.

"I know, dear. But you can be sorry later." She smoothed her daughter's dark chestnut curls away from her forehead. "Would you like Mother to sing to you?"

"Yes, please."

Adamanta began to sing in a soft sweet voice an ancient Shire lullaby:

_"Evening has fallen, the Sun's in the West.__  
__The nightbirds are calling, the Shire is at rest.__  
__Peaceful the night and gentle the breeze,__  
__In cot and in smial, the folk take their ease.__  
__High above the Stars are kindled,__  
__Kith and kin within are nestled,__  
__Safe from harm__  
__In loving arms,__  
__Find slumber deep,__  
__Fall into sleep,__  
__May joy find all your dreams,__  
__May only joy find your dreams…"_

Belladonna began to relax. Her mother finished the lullaby, and began to sing another song, and then another, and then she just hummed sweetly for a while as she stroked her daughter's head.

Suddenly, Bella gave another cry. "Oh dear!"

Adamanta nodded, and rose from her chair. "Where are you going Mother?" Bella asked sharply.

"Nowhere, dear." She took an hourglass from the mantelpiece and brought it over to the nightstand, where she turned it before placing it there. Then she sat down once more by her daughter's side, and held her hand.

Belladonna had two more pangs before the sands ran out.

"I think I shall send for Mistress Posy and Mistress Matilda now." Adamanta rose and went to the door. "Gerontius!" she called.

"Yes, Addie?" came her husband's voice.

"Would you please send Clover to fetch Posy and Matilda?"

Gerontius raised an eyebrow. "Bella?" he asked.

"Yes, dear. I think we are about to become grandparents once more."

It was but a moment's task to find Addie's chambermaid Clover, who was sitting in her mistress's room doing some mending. At the master's request, she gave a grin and jumped up to run her errand.

Gerontius watched her leave, and then after a moment's thought, he fetched his jacket. He had seen his son-in-law leave earlier; the lad needed to know if his wife was in labour!

He poked his head into Belladonna's room, where Addie sat by their daughter's bed. "Addie, I'm off to fetch Bungo."

His wife nodded. Bella gave a little moan. "Father? Tell him I'm sorry?"

Gerontius smiled. "I'm sure he knows that, child!" Indeed, others marveled at Bungo's patience with his volatile wife, but Gerontius knew the lad adored her and that he knew she loved him no matter what she said or how.

Mistress Posy arrived first. When Clover had brought the message, she woke her apprentice Lily. "Wake up, lass! Mrs. Belladonna looks to be in labour; I'm going now. As soon as you get dressed, come along and bring the birthing stool and swaddling cloths! You'll be needed to help and to boil water and so forth."

Lily was a new apprentice, only twenty-six, and this would be her first time to attend a birth. Her brown eyes grew wide.

"Don't fret! And Mistress Matilda will be there as well."

Lily nodded, and hopped out of bed. Her clothing was nearby, all laid out, as her Mistress had taught her. Satisfied that the lass was awake enough to do as she was bid, Posy hurried off. The Thain's family quarters were all the way on the other side of the Great Smials.

"Hullo, Miss Bella!" she said cheerily and bracingly as she entered the room. She gave a bob of her head to Adamanta. "Lady Adamanta".

Adamanta grinned at the midwife, who had delivered five of her twelve children. They were good friends in spite of the formalities of address.

Gerontius had to search a while before he found his son-in-law standing by the duck pond morosely chucking stones into the water. He shook his head.

"Bungo!"

Bungo gave a startled yelp. "What is it?" he asked.

"You are wanted. It seems this little Baggins has suddenly decided to be impatient to enter the world." He studied the hobbit's face, and watched as gloom was replaced with a mixture of joy and alarm.

"Why didn't you say so?" he said, somewhat illogically, as he began to hurry back, all his annoyance with his wife forgotten in his worry.

Gerontius chuckled. "I've been through this twelve times. It never gets any easier." He followed at a slightly more leisurely pace, and Bungo was forced to slow down out of courtesy. He was still champing to go.

The Old Took put his arm about Bungo's shoulders. "It's only just begun, son. The first one always takes hours and hours. We have plenty of time."

By the time they arrived, so had Mistress Matilda. Bungo went in for just a moment, to see Mistress Posy and Adamanta each holding one of his wife's arms and walking her about the room. The apprentice was busy at the hearth with a kettle and a basin. He was only there long enough for him to find his wife's eyes and see the apology there. But there was no time to speak, for at that moment, her water broke.

"What's wrong?" he cried.

Mistress Matilda turned and gave him an exasperated look. "It's perfectly normal, young hobbit! You don't belong in here right now! Your wife is in good hands. Shoo!"

Belladonna turned. "Bungo?" she called plaintively.

"This is women's work, dearie," said Mistress Posy. "Now, take another step."

Bungo gave an agonized look at his wife, and then, feeling Gerontius' hand upon his shoulder, he allowed himself to be drawn away. The healer closed the door behind them firmly.

Hours later, Belladonna had completely lost track of the time. As the contractions came more closely together, they had ceased to turn the hourglass. Now they had moved her from the bed to the birthing stool, and her occasional cries as the pangs hit had become yells and screams. She was holding her mother's hand tightly, and now the midwife was telling her to push, as she knelt before the birthing stool. Lily was holding a tray with scissors and clean cloths, while Mistress Matilda stood nearby.

Bella gave a great shout as she pushed, and she felt something give way. With an abruptness she was unprepared for, she could feel the child leave her, and see it being received into Mistress Posy's waiting hands. The midwife grinned. "It's a lad!"

And then he was being held upside down, and the midwife gave him a smack on his little bottom. His cries were healthy and loud, and Belladonna found herself weeping and laughing at the same time. "It's a lad! It's a lad!" she whispered hoarsely to her mother, who was leaning over her shoulder.

The apprentice assisted as the midwife cut the cord, and the child was cleaned. He was handed up to the healer, who examined him carefully. She smiled at the new mother. "He has all his proper fingers and toes, dear! I think he is perfectly healthy." She leaned over and placed Bella's son into her arms.

Belladonna leaned over him. "Oh, you are! You are perfect!"

Now it was her turn to be cleaned up and to be put into a clean nightgown, and to be helped back to the bed. She felt weak and wobbly, and lay back gratefully among clean linens, for the apprentice had changed the sheets while she was on the birthing stool. When they place the little one back into her waiting arms, he was all nicely swaddled, and wrapped in the lovely pale green blanket traditional for lads.

With a smile, Adamanta went over to the door and cracked it open: "Bungo, you have a son. Mother and child are well. Come in and meet your lad."

He entered the room timidly, and made his way to the bed. There was an expression of awe on his face that Belladonna had never seen before.

Bungo bent and dropped a kiss on her brow, and then looked at the baby. Bella saw the love for this new son dawning in his face, and felt tears sparking.

Suddenly she felt like laughing. "I don't believe 'Bertha' is at all suitable. So I suppose it will have to be the other name we decided on."

Bungo grinned. "Hello, Bilbo Baggins," he said.


	2. Encounter, part one

002eleventyone

Eleventy-one Years: Too Short a Time by Dreamflower

**Book One: The First Fifty Years**

**Chapter 2: Encounter, Part One**

_Forelithe, S.R. 1291_

"Meh!" said ten month old Bilbo, pounding his spoon upon the tray of his high chair. Bang! Bang! Bang!

"You impatient child!" scolded his mother fondly as she set his bowl of porridge in front of him. He was not yet weaned, but he was certainly enjoying his solid food. As soon as the bowl was set down, he abandoned the spoon to use more direct tools: his hands. He plunged both of them into the bowl and soon it was all over his face. Belladonna gave an exasperated laugh, and washed him off with the wet cloth she had nearby for this very eventuality. Then she took up the abandoned spoon and began to feed him.

"Bungo, your son has dreadful table manners," she teased.

Bungo turned from the fire where he was tending a skillet of sausages for the more adult breakfast. "_My_ son? I can't imagine that a Baggins would be anything other than a paragon of manners!" he said, trying to maintain a solemn expression.

"Perhaps he is a changeling, and we have been given a Bracegirdle instead," said Bella.

"Perish forbid!" Bungo sputtered, as he pulled the skillet to the hearth.

They were interrupted by a pounding at the door. "Whoever could it be at _this_ hour?" Bungo said as he got to his feet. "I will get the door. You stay here with our little imp!"

But now that his mother was feeding him delightful porridge with honey and cinnamon and dried fruit, he was behaving beautifully, a blissful smile given to her with each bite.

She heard faint voices from the hall. Whoever it was, Bungo did not invite him in. There was silence for a few moments, and then her husband silently padded back into the kitchen. He was holding a letter in his hand. "It was the Quick Post rider from the Great Smials!"

"You didn't ask him in for refreshment?"

"No, I gave him coin to go to _The Ivy Bush_ if he likes. I don't think we are ready for a guest this morning." Both he and his wife were still in their dressing gowns.

He handed the letter to Belladonna. Though it was addressed to both of them, it was in the Old Took's own hand, and Bungo thought his daughter should have the privilege of opening it.

She turned the spoonful of porridge over to him, and as Bilbo gave another impatient "Meh!" his father conveyed it to his mouth, though he kept a curious eye on his wife. He hoped it was not bad news- the Thain rarely saw fit to use the Quick Post.

She had slipped a finger beneath the seal and unfolded it. Her eyes scanned over it briefly, and she gave a cry- but one of joy, not shock! "Oh, oh Bungo!" She grinned at him. " 'Gar is back! Gandalf found him and brought him back! We must go at once!"

Bungo looked at her in surprise. When her youngest brother Isengar had vanished three years ago, the Tooks had been despondent, certain that he, like his older brother Hildifons before him, would never again be seen in the Shire. He and Belladonna had been mere newlyweds at the time, and he had not known the youngest of the Tooks very well- the tween had seldom found his stodgy Baggins brother-in-law worth the time to speak to. But he had grieved along with his wife at the child's loss.

"Yes, dear! As soon as we finish first breakfast, I will go down the Hill to Greenbriars and let the family know we are off to Tuckborough. And then I will go to _The Ivy Bush_ and hire their pony-trap. If you pack while I am gone, we can be off directly after second breakfast."

"Meh!" said Bilbo.

Not content to wait while his parents discussed such unimportant things, he picked up his entire bowl and planted his face in it.

Bungo left Bag End, and headed down the Hill, past Bagshot Row, and around to the western slope, then went up the lane slightly to the Baggins family hole of Greenbriars. He supposed that one day Bag End would become the family hole, since he expected his father to leave Greenbriars to Longo; after all, Bungo had his own hole now! But as eldest son, Bungo would become the Baggins Family Head.

His youngest brother Bingo threw open the door at his tug upon the bell. At twenty-eight, he still had a certain tween lankiness and awkwardness about him.

"Bungo! What brings you round so early?" Bingo asked as he drew his older brother inside.

Bungo could see the family gathered round the large dining table in the room to the right of the front hall. To his dismay, he saw his Aunt Pansy there. He had forgotten that she was on one of her frequent visits. And Uncle Fastolph, who could usually keep her tongue in check had not come along.

"Won't you join us for first breakfast, son?" his father asked.

"No thank you, Papa. I have already had mine. I just wanted to let you know that we shall be off to Tookland for a few days."

"Is something wrong?" his mother Laura asked.

"No, actually, it is good news! Bella's brother Isengar has returned."

"Oh how wonderful!" exclaimed his younger sister Linda.

Aunt Pansy's face was sour, however. "Hmph! Just more Tookish turmoil! Just when everyone thought him gone for good, he comes back to stir up all the old gossip!" Aunt Pansy had never forgiven the Tooks for the scandal of Rosa Baggins' underage marriage to Belladonna's brother Hildigrim.

Mungo frowned at his sister, but she paid no mind.

Bungo caught a sneer on his other brother Longo's face. Longo had always been jealous of him, and he had never liked Belladonna.

"At any rate, I just wanted to let all of you know where we would be. I'm off to hire the Bush's pony-trap for the journey."

His mother rose and gave him an embrace. "Well, I hope all of you have a pleasant visit. Be sure to tuck Bilbo up warmly for the journey! And give our regards to Thain Gerontius!"

Aunt Pansy sniffed, and Longo snorted. Bungo ignored them, and returned his mother's hug. "I will, Mama."

They made good time in the pony trap. The Thain had seen to it that the potholes in the Post Road had been taken care of in the spring, and the weather of Forelithe was pleasant. It was not quite summer yet, and it was clear and breezy. Belladonna had packed a basket and they ate elevenses and luncheon as they drove along. Bilbo was curious and enjoying the ride, pointing things out with a chubby finger and his all-purpose word of "Meh!"

They arrived in mid-afternoon, and their trap was met by one of the grooms. Bungo took Bilbo and then reached up to hand Bella down. The Great Doors opened, and suddenly they found themselves enveloped in Tooks. Belladonna's sisters Donnamira and Mirabella were hugging her and both were talking all at once, her brother Hildibrand was pounding Bungo on the back, and Hildbrand's wife Myrtle was cooing over little Bilbo, even as she was holding her own babe. Then some of Belladonna's other older brothers came out, accompanied by nieces and nephews and there was even more chaos.

"Enough!" The voice did not shout, but it was firm and cut through all the babble. Gerontius held a hand out to his daughter, and she went towards him.

Suddenly she stopped as she looked past his shoulder. Her eyes went wide, and filled with tears. " 'Gar! Oh, Gar!"

She embraced her younger brother fiercely, tears running down her cheeks. "Oh, 'Gar, we never thought we'd see you again!"

All the Thain's family were at the High Table that night, save for the younger grandchildren who were at the children's table, and the babes who were being watched in the nursery. In addition to the immediate family, there was another guest, seated on a low stool at the Thain's right hand. Bungo looked warily down the table at him: Gandalf the Wizard. Bungo had never seen him before; usually he arrived just before Lithe and stayed only a few days. Since their marriage Bella and Bungo had not been at the Great Smials over Lithe, instead accompanying Bungo's parents to the Fair in Michel Delving. But it was a good three weeks until Lithe, and here he was.

Bungo had heard the stories. How the wizard had helped the Shire during the Long Winter, and how he had befriended Gerontius in his youth. He'd also heard stories that it was Gandalf's fault young Hildifons had vanished, and that he was also the reason Isengar had left. Belladonna denied that, blaming Hildifons' disappearance on a disappointment in love, and Isengar's on youthful impulse. And, Belladonna pointed out, it was Gandalf who had rescued her and her sister Mirabella from the Old Forest not long before she and Bungo were betrothed. But he was so strange and frightening looking, so large and all that hair on his head and face! Not to mention those dark and piercing eyes...

Bungo fervently hoped that he would not be required to make conversation with this alarming personage, who was at this very moment laughing at something the Old Took had said.

On one side, Belladonna was talking non-stop to her sister-in-law, Myrtle. Myrtle and Hildibrand's son Sigismund was almost exactly a month older than little Bilbo, and the two mothers were comparing their children's accomplishments. On the other side was Bella's younger sister Donnamira. Donnamira had recently become betrothed to a Boffin, and the wedding was planned for the fall. She was quite busy staring into her beloved's eyes.

Bereft of any conversation, he turned his full attention to the excellent food in front of him. Whatever anyone might say of Tooks, no one could deny that they set a marvelous table! What deliciously plump and juicy stuffed mushrooms! And the carrots and parsnips were roasted to perfection!

As the diners began to reach the filling up of corners stage, the Thain stood. The room fell silent, and the Old Took raised his glass. "A toast, to my youngest son Isengar, returned to the bosom of his family at last!"

There were loud cheers throughout the room, as glasses were raised.

Gerontius turned and looked at his guest. "And to Gandalf the Grey, who found him and brought him back!"

More cheers, and more drinks! Bungo sipped from his own glass, and thought that if he were a wayward tween, he certainly would not want to be dragged home by such an alarming personage- unless it was that personage who spirited him away to begin with.

Belladonna had told him that as soon as the meal was over, they were expected in the library along with all the rest of the family, to discuss what to do about Isengar, because however glad his family was to have him back, there had to be at least a show of punishment for his running away in the first place.

Soon they were all gathered in the huge room: the Thain and Adamanta, all of the sons and daughters, and their wives and husbands. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Bungo's hope had been to hide at the back of the room, and allow the blood kin to deal with the situation; but Bella had him by the hand and pulled him forward with her. She went to stand by her brother, where Donnamira and Mirabella already stood around him, like vixens with a single kit. The three sisters were united in their support of Isengar- they had always spoiled the lad dreadfully. Bungo noticed that Hildigrim had found that enviable spot near the back. Hildigrim tended to keep his head down at family functions ever since he and Rosa had put the dessert before the main course and disgraced the family name. Bungo's cousin Rosa was clinging to her husband's arm looking subdued; he had a moment of fellow feeling for her. _We Bagginses are out of place among all these Tooks, like sparrows in a flock of magpies,_ he thought.

But the rest of the older brothers were all standing about shouting at their parents angrily, and calling for strict punishment for their prodigal brother. Bungo was sure that part of their anger was fueled by the still painful absence of Hildifons, who had been gone for over sixteen years now.

Once more the Thain silenced everyone, this time simply by rising from his chair. Quiet descended over the room so quickly that for a brief instant Bungo thought he had been stricken deaf. The Old Took turned to look at his youngest son. "Isengar, come here."

Belladonna patted her little brother on the shoulder; Donnamira, who had been clinging to his arm released it reluctantly. Mirabella tried to hold on to his other arm, but he drew it free, and went to his father's side. All three of Gerontius' daughters turned a glare upon their father, who simply looked back at them with a raised eyebrow and a look of amusement.

Isengar stepped to his father's side. He gave a nod of his head. "Father."

Gerontius swept the room with his eyes, locking in a brief gaze with his heir Isengrim, whose eyes glittered with anger. Then he turned to Isengar, and his face softened briefly as he looked at his youngest son. "Isengar, we are all happy to have you home again. You were sorely missed, and we feared for you. But you ran away, and you stayed away. You grieved us all deeply."

Isengar hung his head; his face was red with shame.

Then the Thain looked around at the others again. "Your mother and I have discussed the matter. We cannot pretend this never happened, and so there must be some consequence..."

Belladonna opened her mouth to protest, but a look from her father made her snap it shut. Her nostrils flared, and she drew in a deep breath. Bungo held his own, hoping his wife would not make a scene. She subsided, but he could tell she was unhappy. She and her sisters would have much preferred the option of pretending it had never happened.

Gerontius continued as though the brief thought of rebellion had never occurred. "...but it will not be overly harsh just because of things that others have done in the past."

Now the Thain looked at his older sons. Isengrim was not quelled, but spoke up. "Father, you know that we must make an example, lest we have more Tooks running off like this!"

"Enough. We have already settled the matter. Isengar is not Hildifons, and should only be punished for his own offense, and not that of his brother as well."

Gerontius turned to Isengar once more. "Son, you are yet to come of age. It will be over a year and a half until you are thirty-three. Until that time, you will go no further from the Great Smials than Tuckborough unless you are accompanied by an older member of the family. In addition, Isembard has agreed that you will assist him with the accounts and the bookkeeping three days a week. And you will resume your studies of Shire history with Isumbras. Any violation of this, and you will become Isengrim's ward until you reach your majority."

He looked at the others again. "This is my decision."

Adamanta stepped up to her husband's side. "We are in full agreement on all of this, by the way, so I do not expect any of you to come and ask me to persuade your father otherwise."

The family began to stir, and conversation began again. Gerontius and Adamanta led Isengar out of the room.

Bungo thought this was a very wise and well-thought out punishment, but clearly Bella did not agree.

"He's home!" she said angrily. "That should be enough for anyone!"

"And why should it be?" snapped Isembold. "He _ran away_! He left us to wonder if he was alive or not!"

"He wrote to us!" shouted Mirabella. "We knew he was alive!"

"He wrote to _you_! Once!"

Bungo felt himself shrinking into himself. All of this sound and fury! It was disconcerting to say the least. He wished himself out of it all. "Bella, dear?"

She jumped as though she had forgotten he was there, but turned to look at him.

"Should we not go and check on Bilbo?"

It was the one perfect thing he could have said; reminded of her child, Belladonna was eager to see how he fared. They left the room, and headed back to the nursery.

Belladonna looked at her husband in frustration. They were at second breakfast with most of the rest of the family, and Bungo was giving silent attention to his plate, while all around him the conversation swirled. He wasn't like this at home; in Hobbiton, as his father's heir he was considered a leader in the town. He never seemed to mind making his opinion known, and he certainly held his own in disagreements with his brother Longo, though she had to admit that the Bagginses were seldom as noisy as the Tooks.

But when they came to the Great Smials and he was confronted with all of her brothers and sisters and their families, he withdrew into a silent shell. She knew her older brothers were somewhat scornful of him. "He wouldn't say 'boo' to a goose!" Isembard had once scornfully declared, and sadly, going by Bungo's behaviour around her family she could not really deny it.

She was distracted by the child on her lap. "Meh!" said Bilbo, giving a flounce, and reaching one hand to her plate, from which she had been feeding him tidbits. She handed him a rusk of bread. "Meh!" This was accompanied by a grin, and a little drool, as he delightedly gnawed on this treat.

As the little family headed back to their own room afterwards, she could not seem to help herself. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Say anything?" Bungo looked puzzled.

"You did not speak a word during breakfast!"

Bungo opened his mouth to deny it, but then changed his mind. Come to think of it, she was right- he had not even said "pass the salt"! Instead, he shrugged. "I did not have anything to say, I suppose."

"And last night- why didn't you say anything to Father when he was condemning poor 'Gar to being cooped up like a prisoner for almost two years!"

Bungo blinked. That was not at all what Gerontius had done! And he supposed it would be tactless right now to tell her that he thought her father was right. The Old Took was very wise, and staying home and doing a little work was not going to harm Isengar.

"He'll be able to go to Tuckborough," he said instead.

Belladonna snorted. "Tuckborough!" Then she said in a sad little voice, "I had hoped he'd come and visit us in Bag End!"

"Perhaps he still might- " Bungo began.

She gave him a look that told him she thought he was being too reasonable. "You are impossible!" she snapped, and she suddenly began to walk swiftly in the other direction with little Bilbo in her arms.


	3. Encounter, part two

Eleventy-one Years: Too Short a Time by Dreamflower

**Book One: The First Fifty Years**

**Chapter 3: Encounter, Part Two**

Bella was suddenly filled with the urge to walk, and to get some fresh air, and to put some distance between her and her frustratingly nice husband. _Why won't he just argue with me once in a while?_ she thought. _ A good row never hurt anything; it clears the air!_ She steadfastly ignored the little tiny voice that sounded like her mother telling her that all a row brought was noise and hot air and usually hurt feelings and tears.

She went out a small side door to the South Garden, and then kept on walking past the stables and the small cherry orchard, and across the road towards the assembly field. Preparations were already going on for the Midsummer celebrations that would be taking place there in a few weeks time. She saw Gandalf, who seemed to be measuring his paces and muttering to himself, he glanced up and smiled at her. Normally she would have stopped to pass the time of day with the old wizard; they were friends of old, after all. But he was very astute, and she did not wish him to probe her in her current mood. She gave him a wave and kept walking to the southeast.

Instead she began to converse with her small son, who was looking about with interest. "Do you know where we are going, Bilbo-my-lad? We are going to find some trees! Yes, we are!"

Seeing Gandalf had reminded her of the time when she had been no more than fifteen, a hoyden who often ran about in lads' breeches. There was a wood not far from the Great Smials, a small one, no more than about two miles long and no wider than a couple of furlongs. It consisted of copper beeches. She often would go there to play and to get away from overbearing big brothers.

_She was pretending to be a Tookish archer, marching to the rescue of the long-ago King when she heard an odd whistling noise overhead, followed by a crashing thud among the upper branches of the tree under which she was walking. A few leaves rained down upon her head as she gazed upwards, trying in vain to see what might be up there.___

_"Bless my beard!" said a loud voice behind her. She turned to see her father's friend Gandalf the Grey standing there, also looking up into the tree, his shaggy eyebrows drawn together in a perplexed expression.___

_She turned and looked up at him, not at all cowed. The Took children knew Gandalf as an amiable old fellow who would tell lovely stories, made beautiful fireworks that rained down in splendour on summer nights, and could be quite generous with the squibs and crackers. They were not at all intimidated by his size.___

_"What was that, Gandalf?" she asked.___

_"One of my rockets! I was experimenting with a new kind of rocket, and this one went astray! It should not be left up there- I need to examine it to find out what went wrong." He looked at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes. "You don't suppose..."___

_She gave him a grin. "Would you boost me up to the first limb?"___

_He chuckled, and lifted her up to the lowest branch. Soon she was scrambling upwards, nimble as a squirrel. It wasn't the first tree she'd ever climbed, but she had never climbed quite so high before. Soon she could reach the rocket- the tube was bent, and it smelled of sulfur. She reached out and plucked it loose from between two smaller branches, and then looked at it dubiously. It was too large to hold between her teeth.___

_"Drop it down to me!" ___

_She nodded, and reached out to drop it so that it would not catch on any other branches on the way down. It did bounce off some of the smaller twigs, but made its way mostly unencumbered to the ground.___

_"Be careful coming down!" the wizard called. ___

_She climbed down much more carefully. Down was, for some reason, scarier than up. Then she reached the lowest limb, and Gandalf reached up and plucked her down.___

_"Thank you, my dear! Goodness, you are quite an adventurous little Took!"___

_Her heart had swelled with pride to be called an "adventurous Took", most especially since he had not added "for a lass".___

_He took the rocket in one arm and with his other hand took one of hers, and they strolled back to the Great Smials. "I shall have to confess to your mother that I persuaded you to climb a tree," he warned.___

_"Why?" she asked.___

_"Because it is the right thing to do, you know. I must not abuse your parents' hospitality!"___

_"Oh!" Of course that was true. The rules of hospitality were very strict.___

_She needn't have worried. Adamanta took it all in stride, though it rather scandalized her sister Citrine who was visiting the Great Smials.___

_"Imagine!" she had snorted "He is too old to be setting young girls on such mad adventures!"___

_Adamanta had laughed heartily at this. "You have no idea just how old Gandalf is, sister! And I scarcely think climbing a tree is a 'mad adventure'!"_

Of course, there had also been the time the wizard had rescued her and Mirabella from the Old Forest...she really could not remember _that_ at all well...

The pleasant walk and the dappled shade and the whisper of the trees calmed her mood, and as she usually did, she began to see how ridiculous she had been. Did she _really_ want her sweet Bungo to act like her bossy and temperamental older brothers? Of course not! It was his very level-headedness and willingness to look at all sides of a thing that she admired about him.

But he _was_ going to have to get over being intimidated by Tooks at some point. It made visits here uncomfortable for him. She loved her family and wanted to spend time with them, but it made her very cross to see her dear Bungo withdraw into himself every time he came here.

Still he was not at all intimidated by the most important of the Tooks! Her father liked Bungo very much, and she had a sneaking feeling that he'd take Bungo's side in any dispute!

Bilbo was becoming restless in her arms, and she paused briefly to draw her bodice down so she could nurse him, covering them both with his blanket over her shoulder. "There my lad! I am sure that's much better! But Mama is getting hungry, too!" From the hollow feeling in her middle, Belladonna thought she had missed not only elevenses, but by the time she got back, luncheon as well! She stopped, and leaning against one of the trees, she burped her son and did up her bodice. He blinked at her sleepily, and she smiled and felt her heart turn over with love. Such a wonderful son!

But, oh, she was hungry! She started back at a much less leisurely pace than she had taken coming this far. Perhaps that was why she tripped against an upthrust tree root. Trying to protect her baby, she turned as she fell.

Bilbo began to cry. "There, there, my little lad," she sniffed. "Mama just tripped over the nasty roots. It's all right, Bilbo dear." She held him close, and with an elbow braced herself on one of the roots and tried to rise, only to sit back down abruptly with a cry of pain. Startled, Bilbo began to wail in earnest. "Shush, my child! We don't want a nasty old fox to hear us." Belladonna suddenly felt terrified, not only for herself, but for the baby. "Mama's turned her ankle, that's all…"

_

Bungo was more than a little worried. He had been sure she would show up for luncheon, but when she did not, his questions were dismissed.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you, Bungo!" said Donnamira. "I am sure she's just taking her lunch elsewhere in the Smials!"

He could not deny that possibility. Many Tooks had some of their meals in their own quarters, for most of the apartments had their own small kitchens; others took them in the main dining hall. But so far, questions to those who might have been likely to host his wife for lunch had not seen her.

Well, he had last seen her heading outdoors, so he supposed that's where he ought to begin looking for her. He could not help a little feeling deep in his heart that something was wrong- something more than just her anger at him.

He walked past the stables and the cherry orchard, and noticed that Gandalf the Grey was in the middle of the assembly field. If his wife had gone that way, perhaps he would have seen her.

The wizard had planted one end of his staff in the ground, and appeared to be absorbed in measuring its shadow.

"Ahem...Er-uhm..." Bungo cleared his throat.

Gandalf turned to face him. Bungo did not dare come closer to this large person. But he needed to know.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Baggins." The voice was deeper and louder than a hobbit voice, but it was cordial all the same.

"Er, well, yes. G-good afternoon. Have-have you seen my wife, Mistress Belladonna, pass this way? She had our son with her…"

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, I did see them earlier, walking towards the East. But that was some hours ago, before luncheon. Has she not returned?"

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" Bungo said, "She wasn't _at_ luncheon, and no one in the smials has seen her since second breakfast! She-uh, she-wasn't happy with me this morning…"

"I see." Gandalf took his staff from the ground, and said, "Well, then, why don't I help you look for her? I can show you which way she went."

_

Gildor looked up through the trees. They had stopped for the day, and would continue their journey beneath the stars, for they had come to the end of this small forest, and if they were to keep their presence from becoming generally known by the small inhabitants of this land, they would need to wait until the cover of night. Once they had left this wooded area, they would be travelling over more settled lands-tilled fields and bare hills. But at night, there would be none to mark their passage, save perhaps a wakeful shepherd or two, who would scarce believe their own eyes.

He wondered if _this_ would be the time he himself would take ship and return to the West. He had led many to Mithlond, each time thinking that he too, would sail. Yet each time, as he stood upon the quay, his heart would tell him _"not yet, not yet; you have still some task to fulfill ere you may depart these Shores and cross the Sea to Elvenhome."_ As he came nearer, he heard a soft weeping, and in addition to the weeping, another whimper. There, near the gnarled roots of an old oak was one of the _periain_-apparently a young mother, for she held a whimpering babe close to her heart, and was rocking it back and forth, trying to soothe the child, even through her own tears.

"There, there, my little lad," she sniffed. "Mama just tripped over the nasty roots. It's all right, Bilbo dear." She held the child close, and with an elbow braced herself on one of the roots and tried to rise, only to sit back down abruptly with a cry of pain. Startled the babe began to wail in earnest. "Shush, my child!" the young mother said. "We don't want a nasty old fox to hear us." She looked about her, eyes wide with fear. "Mama's turned her ankle, that's all…"

Keeping the presence of Elves a secret was all well and good, but Gildor could not simply stand by and leave her thus. While it was unlikely any predators would be close now with Elves nearby, she had no way to know of that unseen protection. And she and the child were far from the help of any others of her kind. Silently he stepped forward, keeping his hands wide and trying to appear unthreatening.

"Small Mistress," he said, as softly as he could, "may I be of some assistance to you?"

She looked up in alarm, but did not make a sound as her jaw dropped. She stared, her green eyes huge, and she clutched the child even closer. Finally, she swallowed. "You're an Elf," she rasped.

"Gildor Inglorion, of the House of Finrod," he said, bowing slightly, and cautiously moving closer.

She did not flinch, though she did tense up. "I am Belladonna Baggins, at your service, Master Gildor," she said shakily, but with the ingrained courtesy of her people. "This is my son Bilbo. I am afraid that I stumbled and turned my ankle."

Gildor nodded, and knelt down by her. "May I?" he asked. He reached out very slowly, and took her right foot in his hand. It was, of course, unshod. He prodded it gently, and she winced and bit her lip. The baby in her arms twisted around to look at this new person.

"Meh!" he said, his blue eyes huge. Gildor studied him. He was a comely child, with a riot of brown curls and an amiable and intelligent expression. He gave the Elf a grin, and Gildor found himself grinning back.

Returning his attention to the _perian's_ ankle, he saw that it was already swollen. She would not be able to walk upon it for some time.

Before he could say anything to her about it, there was an alarming rumble from her mid-section, and she blushed. "I-I'm sorry-I'm afraid I've missed elevenses, and it must be nigh on to luncheon."

Gildor sat back on his haunches. "My people are encamped a very short distance from here. Perhaps you could take a meal with us. We have also a healer, who could bind up your ankle for you, and then we could send a message to your people-"

She stared at him for a moment, as if uncertain, and then nodded.

The Elf reached out to the child, who trustingly came to him. He settled the babe on his left arm, and then with his right, picked up the mother. She gasped a bit as he stood up, and gripped him about the neck.

It took Gildor only a few moments to stride back to the place where his people were encamped, and they looked up in shock to see their leader carrying the perian and her child.

He turned and spoke. "Lomiel," he called, and an Elven-woman with raven hair stood up and came over.

Gildor looked down at Belladonna. "Mistress Baggins, this is Lomiel. She will tend your injury, and then perhaps, we shall see to finding you a meal?"

"Thank you-" she looked at him uncertainly, "what about Bilbo?"

He smiled at her. "I think that you may safely leave him with me for a few moments."

She nodded, and allowed Lomiel to carry her away a short distance.

Bilbo watched his mother, an expression of curiosity on his small face. He glanced up at the Elf who still held him. "Ma-ma?" he trilled.

Gildor chuckled. "Your _naneth _will be just fine. In the meantime, shall we see if we can find something for you?"

The other Elves had begun to gather about Gildor, marveling at the tiny child, who was so small that he easily fit into Gildor's two hands. Bilbo looked about him, with an expression of delighted wonder, and when one silver-haired Elf leaned over him, he reached up a chubby hand to pull on one of the locks. The Elf laughed, and then the child laughed too.

Soon the Elves were all seated around, and had provided Bilbo with a rusk of bread to chew on. If he had been smiling before, he was positively gleeful now. Never had he tasted anything like it.

Lomiel carried Belladonna over to the rest, her foot now snugly wrapped in a bandage, and Bella took little Bilbo into her own lap once more. Soon she was provided with bread, fruit, cheese, and a fragrant golden draught. She listened in amazement, as the Elves began to sing. Little Bilbo tried to sing along as well in his wordless fashion.

Gildor watched over the small group, and then slipped away. Time was passing, and the family of the little wanderers would probably be searching for them frantically. If he could find a sign of searchers, he would take her back to them, but he would prefer not to have to go into the settled areas to do so.

He had nearly reached the spot where he had first found her, when he heard the sounds of someone approaching.

"Dear me," said one voice, clearly that of a _perian_, "I am so worried. We've not seen any sign of her since that oak tree. This is all my fault. If I had not made her cross with me over my timidity with her family-"

"Do not fret, Mr. Baggins," came the other voice "I am sure we shall soon find her." Gildor knew that voice-it was Mithrandir!

The Elf stepped forth. "Are you searching for Belladonna Baggins and her child?" he asked.

Bungo gasped, and stepped behind the wizard, who chuckled and put a reassuring hand on the curly head. "Well met, Gildor Inglorion! I take it you have found our strays?"

"Yes, we have both mother and child safe with us." He glanced down at the perian who had cautiously moved forward. "Your wife has sprained her ankle. But our healer is tending to it, and she and your child have been fed!"

"Oh! Oh thank you! But-but I am forgetting my manners! I am Bungo Baggins, at your service!" and he made a courteous bow.

"You are most welcome, Master Bungo. If you and Mithrandir will follow me, I shall take you to your family."

A short while later, Gildor led them into the clearing, and with a sharp cry, Bungo darted over to his wife and took her into an embrace, baby and all. The Elves and wizard kindly pretended not to notice the tearful apologies from both parties. After a few moments, Bungo stood back up. "I do not know _how_ to thank you, Master Gildor! I was so worried!"

"No thanks are needed, Master Baggins; we have much enjoyed the company of your wife and child."

It was soon arranged that Gandalf would carry Belladonna, as she was not to walk upon her ankle for some days, as Lomiel told her firmly. "Be certain to seek the advice of a healer of your own people before removing the bandage," the Elf-woman reminded her.

Belladonna nodded, and impulsively kissed the healer on her cheek. "Thank you, Lomiel," she said, as Gandalf scooped her up into his strong arms.

Little Bilbo was in his father's arms. He looked up and laughed "Pa-pa!" Bungo hugged him tightly.

Gildor knelt down. "Master Baggins, may I say farewell to your remarkable son?"

Bungo handed Bilbo to the Elf, who took him carefully. Big blue eyes gazed up at him solemnly.

For some reason, Gildor had the feeling he had not seen the last of this one. Leaning his face down, and not flinching as the tiny fingers wound into his hair, he murmured _"No e beren, ar garo i dhôl vell na nauthad, ar i ind vell na velad, ar i gaim vell na gared naid, ar i dail vell na drevaded, ar lúban tolo beriannen na mar în,*_" and bestowed a kiss upon the little brow. Then he handed the child back to his father.

Mithrandir looked at him. "That was quite a blessing you bestowed upon this child," he said in Sindarin.

"My heart tells me that perhaps this little one will need it someday," was the bemused response.

Gildor watched as their unexpected guests left the clearing. No, he did not think he would be taking ship this time, either.

_  
Belladonna found being carried by Gandalf to be remarkably comfortable. In spite of her injury, she felt much happier. Bungo had easily forgiven her for her ridiculous anger, she had eaten, and she had met _Elves_! As a child she had always wanted to meet an Elf one day, and now she had met several! She gave a sigh of contentment.

But something puzzled her. "Gandalf?"

"Yes, Belladonna?"

"What did he say to Bilbo? The Elf, when he spoke to my son, what he said was not merely 'farewell'."

Gandalf was silent for a moment, and then bent his head slightly and murmured "_'May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong heart to love with, and the strong hands to work with, and the strong feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his own.' _"*

What a remarkable thing! Belladonna thought. It was a little alarming, as though the Elf knew something about her child's fate, that he would need such a blessing...

_

*Quotation from _Five Children And It_ by Edith Nesbit, assigned as a challenge element.

AUTHOR'S END NOTES: One section of this story, the part in Gildor's point-of-view, was quoted from a previous story "Eucatastrophe: The Return", a very small section of one chapter in that story. (While the story itself is AU, the flashback provided in Chapter 7 is part of my own fanon backstory for Bilbo.) The "blessing" was a quotation assigned as part of a challenge element, and the Sindarin translation is courtesy of the kind and talented Ithildin, as I have no skills myself in Sindarin, or in any other Elven language. Here is a link to how she did the translation: Ithildin's Notes on Translation.


	4. Turning Three

**Chapter 4: Becoming Three**

_Halimath, S.R. 1293_

"Do you really mean it?" asked Bingo with a grin.

"We do indeed, little brother," said Bungo. Belladonna, who was holding her husband's hand, nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want one of your Took kin, Bella?"

She shook her head and smiled at her youngest brother-in-law. "I am quite sure. Bilbo is very fond of you, Bingo! And I want him to celebrate his _faunthood_ here at Bag End, not at the Great Smials." She picked up a plate and handed it over to him. "Now, have another bilberry scone. Do you want some more tea?"

* * *

Bingo set down the Hill for Greenbriars whistling jauntily! How wonderful that he had been asked to escort little Bilbo on his first present-finding expedition as a _faunt. _The honor often went to older siblings or cousins, but Bilbo was an only child, and he had no Baggins cousins of an appropriate age. At twenty-nine Bingo was old enough to be responsible for the little one, but young enough to not mind trekking about in the early morning following the whims of a three-year-old.

Of course, the parents could not do it; otherwise the child's little offerings would not be a surprise!

Mungo and Laura were thrilled with Bingo's news. "What fun that will be for both of you, son," his father said.

His sister Linda sighed. "If only they would have a lass! Then perhaps I would get the chance to do that someday."

"Cheer up, sissy," Bingo said. "I am sure that there's time for that!"

"We had word of Longo in the post today," said his mother.

"He sent a letter?" Bingo asked.

"No." Mungo's voice was flat. "The letter was from Mr. Sackville, telling us that Longo had arrived and was settling into his job." Longo had received the offer of a position from Cosimo Sackville, a prominent leaf-grower in the Southfarthing right after he had come of age that summer. The Sackville factor was growing older, and Longo was to act as the factor's assistant, with the idea that he was being groomed to take over when the older hobbit decided to retire from the position.

"Oh." Bingo was not surprised that his brother had not written. He probably would, eventually- but not until he had something to boast about. Longo was rather more ambitious than was seemly for a hobbit.

"So," said Laura, in an effort to change the subject, "tell me of the plans for little Bilbo's birthday..."

* * *

A little hobbit's third birthday is a momentous occasion: it is when the little one leaves off being an infant and becomes a _faunt_, who can walk about and who has begun to talk and communicate. _Faunthood_ lasts for two years, until childhood begins on the fifth birthday. But it is on the third birthday that the _faunt_begins to be schooled in one of the most important lessons of life for a hobbit: that giving is more important than receiving. Among hobbits the giving of gifts is a tradition wrapped about with rules and ceremonies, most especially birthday gifts, which are both given and received.

For a _faunt_ that third birthday is an introduction to the giving of birthday gifts. Early on the little _byrding's_day the child will be taken by a beloved older relative or friend to find gifts; these very often were flowers, or a pretty stone, or some other object that took the child's eye. These first gifts are then presented to the parents, a cherished moment- many a fond mother kept the often bedraggled blooms and pressed them in the pages of a book.

Bingo knew he had a big responsibility; he had to make sure that Bilbo had fun finding the gifts, so that he would think of giving as a pleasant thing, but he also needed to guide his nephew into choosing things that would not be unsuitable. While a three-year-old might find a frog fascinating his mother most assuredly would not be pleased. But most of all, Bilbo should have that feeling of joy that comes from making someone else happy, so that he would want to do it again and again.

The twenty-second of Halimath dawned clear and pleasant, and Bingo rose very early. He was to go up the hill and take first breakfast at Bag End, so that immediately afterwards he and Bilbo could go out to gather the gifts.

Belladonna answered the door, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Bingo! I am so glad you are going to do this for Bilbo."

She led him into Bag End's cosy kitchen, where he was greeted by the wonderful smells of first breakfast: there were griddlecakes and sausages and bacon and eggs scrambled with mushrooms and fried potatoes and they were all accompanied by a pot of fresh tea, a jug of fruit juice, honey, fresh butter and strawberry jam. Bilbo was no longer seated in his high chair. Instead he was on one of the regular chairs, boosted to table height by a sturdy boxlike seat fastened to the chair by a leather strap.

"Unca Bingo!" Bilbo crowed. "I'm _big_now! I'm t'ree!"

He grinned as Bilbo punctuated his statement with a large bite of sausage. "So I see! You are not in your baby chair anymore!"

Bilbo chewed and swallowed. "I'm a _faunt_now! I'm not a baby now!"

Bingo took a seat between his nephew and his brother as Belladonna sat a plateful of food before him. As Bilbo occupied himself with eating, Bingo did the same, adding butter and honey to his griddlecakes. Then he took up a forkful of eggs and mushrooms- ah! delectable! Whatever Longo might say about Tooks, Belladonna was an excellent cook, and at this moment Bingo was very glad that she was his sister-in-law.

Bella sat down with her own plate now, and there was a brief silence at the table as all four hobbits concentrated on their food. Bilbo finished first and looked at his little plate with the painting of ducklings around the rim. "Mama! More p'ease?"

"More of what, Bilbo-lad? Do you want eggs or potatoes or griddlecakes or sausage?"

"Yes, p'ease, Mama!" he grinned. "More everyt'ing!"

"I'll get it, my dear," said Bungo. "I've quite finished, and you have not." He rose and took the child-sized plate to the sideboard to fill it up once more; then he placed it in front of his son.

"T'ank you, Papa!"

When the meal was finished, Belladonna took Bilbo to clean him up while Bingo helped his brother with the washing up. He washed the plates and handed them to Bungo for drying.

"Well, little brother, are you ready for this? I warn you, he may run you ragged!"

"Of course I am! We'll make a game of it all!" Bingo grinned and splashed some of the dishwater in his brother's direction. Bungo retaliated with a snap of the dish towel, and soon they were having a brotherly tussle, until they heard the "A-hem!" clearing of a feminine throat. Belladonna stood in the door looking amused. She had Bilbo by the hand, and his eyes were enormous as he watched his father and uncle.

Bingo knelt down. "Well, Bilbo-lad, are you ready to go and find presents?"

Bilbo gave a little shriek of delight, and rushed into his uncle's arms. "We will see you in a little while," Bingo said as he stood up with Bilbo in his arms.

Bilbo looked back over Bungo's shoulder and waved. " 'Bye, Mama! 'Bye, Papa!"

* * *

Once out the front door of Bag End into the crisp autumn air, and down the front steps, Bingo set his nephew down and watched him carefully. If the lad decided to pick his flowers from the herbaceaous border along the flagged front path, their expedition would be a short one. But Bilbo had no interest in flowers that he saw every day of his short life. Instead he pelted on his chubby legs down the path to the gate. "Come _on_, Unca Bingo!" he called impatiently.

Bingo went down and took the child's hand before opening the gate. "Please stay next to me while we are on the road, Bilbo. We'll play a game, and perhaps it will help you to find your presents."

Bilbo looked up and nodded. "I will!"

Bingo dropped the little hand and began to stroll, Bilbo trotting along at his side. "Here is the game, Bilbo. I will see something and tell you about it. Then you tell me what you think it is."

His nephew nodded and gazed up at him seriously. "BIlbo, I see something tall and shady. What is it?"

Bilbo stopped and pointed at the side of the road. "A tree!" he laughed. "Did I get it right?"

"You most certainly did. I see something fluffy and white. What is it?"

Bilbo looked all around, and then gazed up at his uncle, who was staring at the sky. "Oh!" he exclaimed, and looked up. "A c'oud!"

"Right again!" They played for a while as they walked, Bingo deliberately choosing parts of the landscape that could not be picked up for Bilbo to give as gifts. He wanted them to take their time in searching, so he "saw" a gate, a pony in a neighbour's field and a pond. Then he said, "I see something small and round. What is it?" He had an eye on a small white stone by the side of the road.

Bilbo seemed briefly stumped. He looked all around, but never once in the direction of the little stone. "I know, Unca Bingo!" He pointed over to the side of the road, just the other side of a wooden fence. "A apple!" He looked up at his uncle. "I want a apple for Papa! Papa likes apples!" Sure enough, there stood a lonely apple tree laden with pippins.

Bingo nodded. The field belonged to Farmer Button, but he knew that the old fellow would not begrudge a three-year-old _byrding_an apple for his Papa. Bingo lifted Bilbo over the fence and then clambered over after him. They walked up to the tree, and Bingo lifted Bilbo up over his head so the lad could pluck one of the little apples.

"Papa will like_ this _one," Bilbo said, examining it critically.

"Shall I carry it for you in my pocket until we get back to Bag End?" Bingo asked. At Bilbo's nod, he dropped it into his jacket pocket and they continued their walk cross-country. The game was now forgotten as Bilbo looked seriously to find a gift for his mother.

Suddenly he gave a little shout. "Mush'ooms!" he pointed. "I want a mush'oom for Mama!"

They went over to where Bilbo had seen the mushroom, but Bingo held him back. "No, Bilbo. Not that mushroom! That's a bad kind of mushroom; it would make your mama sick."

"Oh." Bilbo drooped forlornly. "I don't want a bad mush'oom."

"We'll find something else. Don't worry."

Soon they came near a small copse of maple trees, already nearly bare of their golden autumn foliage, which littered the ground. Bilbo darted over and began to pick them up, one at a time, examining each one closely for its appearance and discarding each as it failed to meet his exacting standards. Finally he held one up. "Dis one, Unca Bingo! Mama will like this one!"

Bingo grinned. "Indeed she will, Bilbo-lad! That's a beautiful leaf!" He admired it- it truly was lovely: huge, perfectly symmetrical, a deep red around the edges fading to a brilliant golden colour in the centre, and it was not yet brittle. Bingo was quite sure that Bilbo's mother would be very pleased with his tribute.

"I'm tired, Unca Bingo."

They had traipsed quite a distance from Bag End; it was a long trek for a three-year-old. Bingo added the leaf to the apple in his pocket, and picked Bilbo up. "We'll go back now. And you can give your presents to your Mama and Papa."

Bilbo fell asleep on the way, and Bingo sighed as he felt the drool on his shoulder. But he was happy. He felt successful in having guided his little nephew through this rite-of-passage. Now all that remained was for Bilbo to give his gifts.

Bingo stopped as they reached the gate to Bag End. "Wake up, Bilbo!"

Bilbo looked up at him blearily for a moment, and wiped his eyes with his fingers. Bingo set him down. "We are back home, lad." He took the apple and the leaf from his pocket and handed them to the child, who smiled up at him.

"T'ank you, Unca Bingo."

Belladonna and Bungo were waiting patiently in the front room, sitting together on the settee by the hearth. Bingo stood in the doorway while little Bilbo ran in to their embrace and watched the scene unfold before him.

"Papa! I got you a apple!"

Bungo took it, and grinned. "Thank you, Bilbo! If you don't mind, I won't eat it yet! I will wait until after luncheon, so I can show it to your grandparents when they come to eat with us."

"Dat's all right, Papa!"

He turned to his mother, and held up the leaf. "Do you like it, Mama?"

"Oh Bilbo!" Tears sparked in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mama, don't cry! Don't you like it?"

She gathered him up in her arms. "I like it very, very much indeed! I am crying because I am very, very happy!"

Bilbo turned a puzzled expression to his father. "It's true, Bilbo. Sometimes mothers do cry because they are happy."

Bilbo returned his mother's squeeze, and added a little kiss on her cheek. "Unca Bingo he'ped me find it. He's a good p'esent finder!"

All three turned to grin at Bingo, who found himself flushed with pleasure. It had been a very gratifying morning. "So," he said, "what does a lad have to do around here to get some second breakfast?"

* * *

A/N: Most of the traditions I have incorporated into the fanon of "my" Shire-universe have been extrapolated from one of Tolkien's letters. _Letter #214_addresses a number of Shire customs and traditions:

_" 'Birthdays' had a considerable social importance. A person celebrating his/her birthday was called a _ribadyan_ (which may be rendered according to the system described and adopted a _byrding_). The customs connected to birhdays had, though deeply rooted, become regulated by fairly strict etiquette; and so in consequence were in many cases reduced to formalities..."__  
_

_"With regard to _presents_: on his birthday the 'byrding' both _gave_ and _received_ presents; but the processes were different in origin, function and etiquette..."_

_"_Giving gifts:_ was a personal matter, not limited to kinship. It was a form of 'thanksgiving', and taken as a recognition of services, benefits, and friendship shown, especially in the past year__It may be noted that Hobbits, as soon as they became 'faunts' (that is talkers and walkers: formally taken to be on their third birthday-anniversary) _gave presents_ to their parents. These were supposed to be things 'produced' by the giver (that is found, grown, or made by the 'byrding'), beginning in small children with bunches of wild flowers..."__  
_  
As you can see the groundwork has been done for me by the Professor. I've added in some logical formalities and details. If a three-year-old is going to go out and gather wild flowers he or she must be supervised, and by someone other than the intended recipient (the parents). In my Shire, a suitable older relative is found to do this duty.

The fact that a good deal of emphasis is placed on the 'thanksgiving' aspect of gift-giving, and that a display of gifts received is considered poor taste (something mentioned further along in the letter) has led me to feel that in Shire society generosity and a spirit of giving are considered prime virtues, and that "It is better to give than receive" would be a value that Shire parents would seek to instill in their children_._

In this chapter, Bungo at 29 is the equivalent of a human teen of about 18, while little Bilbo at 3 is more like a 2-year-old human. My hobbit children sometimes seem precocious. This is because even though their physical and emotional development is slower, they will still have the same amount of memory, so their vocabularies may be somewhat larger. They would also have a little more knowledge than a human child at that stage of development.


	5. Lessons

(A/N: The last portion of this chapter contains material quoted from my story "Learning Curve".)

Chapter 5: Lessons

_Astron, S.R. 1298_

"...eleventy-five, eleventy-six, eleventy-seven, eleventy-eight, eleventy-nine, twelfty!"

Belladonna laughed. "Well, some people still say 'twelfty' but most people say 'one hundred twenty'." Only the most elderly of her relatives used that term, and a few rustics.

"Why?" asked Bilbo.

"I think," said his mother casting about rapidly in her mind for a possible answer, "perhaps it is because 'twelfty' is harder to say than 'eleventy'."

"Oh." He thought for a moment and then nodded. "I think so, too, Mama. 'Twelfty-one is not so hard, but 'twelfty-two' is. And 'twelfty-three' just sounds silly!" Bilbo giggled.

Belladonna laughed and hugged him. "I am glad you agree with me!"

"May we read now, Mama?"

"Fetch the book."

Bilbo brought her the book; it was large but rather flat, for it had not many pages. The words were large and clear, and the pages were decorated with charming watercolor illustrations.

He clambered into her lap, and opened it to the place where a small blue ribbon marked the page.

"Go ahead," said his mother.

"Ten little ducks were swimming in a pond.  
One flew away and then he was gone..." Bilbo stopped and looked up. "Mama, why doesn't it say 'goned'?"

"Because 'goned' is not a word, Bilbo."

"But it sounds better with 'pond'!"

"Read some more, Bilbo," his mother said, trying very hard not to laugh.

"Nine little ducks were wahdling...no...waddling down the lane..." he looked up at his mother to see if he had it right. She nodded.

"...waddling down the lane.  
One wand-er-ed, wandered, off when someone called his name." Bilbo stopped and frowned again. "Mama, 'lane' and 'name' are not the same sound at the end!"

"No, they are not. But they are very close."

Bilbo sighed, and frowned, as if 'very close' was not at all good enough. "Eight little ducks, flying in the sky. One turned around and said 'good-bye'. Seven little ducks..."

Belladonna relaxed as Bilbo continued reading without, apparently, finding anything else to question or find fault with in the story. It was time to have a word with her husband.

Later that night after Bilbo was abed, and Belladonna and Bungo were sitting by the hearth in the front room, Bella put aside her knitting. "Bungo, I think it is time that you take over Bilbo's lessons."

"Really, dear? He is not yet eight. Isn't he rather young for more advanced lessons?"

"Perhaps. But he is counting well, and he is reading very well, and he is full of questions! His curiosity is endless, and it takes quite a while to finish a reading lesson when he has a question about every other word!"

Bungo laughed. "Well, that shows his Tookish side, my dear! I am sure you were just as questionsome as a lass!"

"What a word, Bungo! 'Questionsome'! Where did you come up with it?"

"There, see, you prove my point. You are still 'questionsome'!"

"And you have yet to say if you will take on Bilbo's lessons," she said, refusing to be distracted.

"Dear, I do not normally take a child on until he or she is at least in the teens." Bungo was family tutor for the Bagginses and some of their connexions. "But they are cousins. Bilbo is my own son, so I think I may be forgiven if I break precedent with him. One thing concerns me, though. How is his penmanship? My own is less than stellar, and that is one skill I do not teach well."

"His writing is quite shaky still; he has scarcely mastered using chalk on a slate, and using a pen is yet a trial for him. But if you like, I can continue with those lessons, if you will take over his sums and his reading."

"We have a bargain, my dear! Shall we seal it with a kiss?" He grinned at her.

She chuckled. "A kiss and more, if you are quite ready to retire." Now that she had her way she was more than willing to be distracted.

The next morning after second breakfast, Belladonna and Bungo informed Bilbo of the new order of things.

"You will still come with me, Bilbo, to practice your writing before elevenses every other morning. But after elevenses on Trewsdays and Mersdays, you will go to Papa to work on your sums and to read." Bilbo's parents had agreed that he was still too young for more intense lessons, and Bungo still had his responsibilities to his other pupils. Right now they consisted of his cousin Petunia who came to him after elevenses on Monday, Hensday and Highday, and his cousin Porro who had his lessons between elevenses and luncheon on Trewsday and Mersday, and cousin Bosco, who at twenty-seven was too old for regular lessons, but still came by from time to time, when Bungo would look over his essays or quiz him on his general knowledge.

Bilbo looked up at Bungo, his eyes wide. "But, Papa! Can I still read on other days, too?"

Bungo laughed. "Of course you can, Bilbo-lad! You may read on your own anytime you wish!"

"Unless," added his mother quickly, "you have other things you need to do!" She did not want him using "But Papa said!" as an excuse when he had his little chores to do, or when she sent him outside to get some sunshine and play.

"This is going to be splendid!" Bilbo exclaimed.

Bungo grinned. "I certainly hope so, son!"

_Forelithe, S.R. 1300_

"You can do it, Bilbo!" Bilbo looked at Chop dubiously. His cousin was a good ten years older, but sometimes he did not seem very sensible.

"Siggy's up there." Chop reminded him.

"Siggy fell out of the rooftree at Bag End." Bilbo was very fond of Siggy and Chop as well, but they did some odd things. He had been very frightened when his visiting cousin had fallen out of the huge oak that grew atop the Hill a few days ago. In spite of the bump on his head, Siggy had not seemed much bothered by his mishap. Now they were back at Great Smials and soon the Lithedays would be upon them.

"That wasn't my fault, the branch was broken." Siggy called down from the huge chestnut tree. "Come on, you can do it! Chop will help you."

"Bilbo, it's the only way we will be able to see anything! Don't you want to know what Gandalf is up to?"

The Took children were forbidden by the Old Took to pester the wizard when he was preparing his fireworks. This of course, made them all the more eager to watch his mysterious preparations. Bilbo nodded.

Adalgrim (known to his cousins as "Chop") gave Bilbo a boost to the lowest limb, and then scrambled up after him.

Bilbo gave a shudder as he looked down at the ground. "Don't look down," said Adalgrim. "Now, stand up carefully, take hold of the next branch, and pull yourself up to it. All right! You are doing just fine, little cousin! Two more branches and we will be right up there with Siggy."

Once he stopped moving, and was ensconced on the branch with a cousin on either side, Bilbo's stomach stopped doing little flip-flops. The three of them gazed out on the assembly field, where Gandalf stood in the middle, with his cart and his immense horse Bran. He thrust his staff into the ground, and proceeded to measure its shadow and then to pace off from it in different directions. The three of them watched him for quite a while, when he suddenly turned and looked directly at them. Bilbo gave a yip and nearly slid from the branch, but his cousins caught him tightly by the braces. He looked ruefully at the leg of his breeches, torn and slightly bloody at the knee where it had caught upon the tree's rough bark.. He hoped his mum would not scold him too much. After Gandalf caught them, they climbed down quickly and made their way back to the Smials.

The three went to confess to Bilbo's mother- for of course, they could not allow him to suffer the consequences alone. She just smiled, and looked at the damage, and before any of them could say anything, she said, "So you've been climbing trees, have you?" She cleaned Bilbo's knee and made him change his breeches, and then offered the lads some of the sugar biscuits she had just made.

Siggy blinked. "Your mother didn't scold you!" he said in amazement.

"Of course she didn't," said Adalgrim. "She is a _real_ Took!" He sighed. His own mother, while much beloved, was seldom as understanding of the scrapes he got into, nor was Siggy's mother. But then _his_ mother was a Baggins, and Siggy's mother was a Bunce. Sometimes they just did not understand what it meant to be a Took.

"Why thank you, Chop!" Belladonna said, as she came in with the biscuits and a pitcher of ginger beer on a tray. "And thank you for teaching Bilbo to climb! It is certainly a very important skill. Did I ever tell you of the story of when Gandalf had _me_ climb a tree?"

_Solmath, S.R. 1306_

Bilbo looked up from his essay on Bandobras "Bullroarer" Took. "Papa, did Bagginses ever do _anything_ important?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"Well, Bandobras Took killed the Chief Goblin, and saved the Shire from the Goblin Invasion. In the Long Winter, it was Tooks who brought Gandalf and help to the Shire. And the Tooks are the Thains. The Brandybucks were Thains, too, back when they were still Oldbucks. And they settled Buckland. It was their ancestor Bucca who helped the old King and became the _first_ Thain. So were Bagginses ever important?"

"As well to ask were Bolgers and Boffins and Proudfoots ever important, Bilbo. Not everything a hobbit does gets into the history books."

"I suppose not." Bilbo sighed. "But it would be nice if Bagginses had done something!"

Bungo looked thoughtful. "Bilbo, see the books on that shelf to the right of the hearth, the second one up from the bottom?"

"The ones with the brown covers? Aren't those the Family Books?"

"Yes, they are. I want you to look at some of them, and see if you can find any 'important' Bagginses. I'll give you until next week to make me a list."

Bilbo sighed. He loved to read, but Family Books tended to be just Family Trees, with occasional tidbits of information. It was likely to be very boring.

It turned out to be anything but boring. He handed his list to Bungo, and stood back to await his Papa's verdict.

_ S.R.16: Lily Bingen wed to Blanco of the Fallohides. They had two sons, Tuck and Bodo. _He grinned at his father. "Tooks are really Bagginses!"

Bungo laughed. "Perhaps we should tell that to your Uncle Longo, do you suppose?"

_S.R. 37: On the Sixth day of Blooting, Inigo Bagens Passed from Life. He was a great Healer and it was his Tireless Work that Helped the Hobbits of the Shire Survive the Great Plague. His Loss was followed some four days later by his Daughter Cora, who had been his Apprentice. They were the Last Hobbits to die of the Terrible Disease in the Shire._ "That's really sad, Papa!"

Bungo nodded. "It is very sad; being a Healer is a very important thing for a hobbit, don't you think?"

Bilbo nodded.

_S.R. 375: Togo Baggens accompanied the Troop of Archers to the Summons of the King. He has Not Returned, nor any Others, and it is to be Presumed that they are Slain._

_S.R. 376: Gerda Baggens wed to Bucca of the Marish_. Bilbo grinned. "The Brandybucks are Bagginses, too!"

_S.R. 740: Porro Baggens elected the First Mayor of the Shire at the Great Fair and Convocation._ "Papa, isn't that the same year that the Tooks became Thains and the Brandybucks settled Buckland?"

"Yes, it is. There is an interesting story behind that as well, and we will study that part of history very soon."

_S.R. 1088: Vigo Baggins marries Diamanda Took, daughter of Thain Isengrim II_.

_S.R. 1227: Balbo Baggins elected Mayor of the Shire. _"That was Great-Grandfather!" Bilbo exclaimed.

"He served three terms," said Bungo.

Bilbo nodded at his father. "There were important Bagginses, Papa!"

"Yes, there were. And perhaps one day, you will also be a very important Baggins!"

_Halimath, S.R. 1308_

"Very good, Bilbo." Bungo cast his eye over the essay in his hand with approval. "Excellent work, and very neatly done as well. You may be finished for the day, son."

"May I wait for Siggy?" He glanced with longing at his cousin Sigismond, still struggling with quill and ink.

"I think not. I am afraid Sigismond will be a while yet. Perhaps you might go out in the garden, or see if your mother needs any help in the kitchen."

"Yes, sir," Bilbo said dejectedly. He tried and failed to catch Siggy's eye, as he left the room.

He had looked forward so much to this visit from his cousin. They were fast friends, and almost the same age. When Uncle Hildibrand had suggested that Sigismond could benefit from some extra tutoring from his Baggins uncle, and had arranged for Sigismond to spend the fall at Bag End, both lads had been ecstatic. A whole season in one another's company! Siggy was to stay from the beginning of Halimath to the end of Blotmath!

However, their joy soon turned to dejection, for Bungo soon began to realize why Hildibrand had wanted the extra tutoring. Bilbo was an excellent student, and often basked in his father's praise. Siggy, however, was an indifferent pupil, and was woefully behind in his studies. The result was that as the two lads worked under Bungo's watchful eye, Bilbo would quickly finish his assigned work. But Sigismond would still be struggling on. And now, after a few weeks of this, it was beginning to strain the lads' friendship.

Bilbo's face flamed, as he recalled the day before. In an effort to mend matters with his cousin, he had deliberately made a mess of his work, spelling words wrong, blotting the ink, and putting down answers that were blatantly incorrect. He hoped that he would then have to work longer alongside his cousin.

But the plan had not worked at all the way he expected. When he handed the flawed work to his father, Bungo had simply stared at him, a knowing expression in his eyes. "I would not have thought this of you, son," he had said, his tone of sad disappointment more cutting than any angry shouting might have been. He had simply thrown the offending work away, and said, "We'll have no more of this."

What was worse was that Siggy had been angry at him, and accused Bilbo of mocking him. "You needn't rub my face in it, that you are so much more clever than I am!"

"But I wasn't! And I'm not! Really!"

But Siggy had turned away, and refused to talk to him the rest of the evening. And though he was speaking to him today, it was in a cold and polite tone, not like they were best friends at all. In fact, Bilbo thought Siggy might be in a fair way to hating him.

And it wasn't fair at all. It's not like Siggy wasn't much better than Bilbo at a lot of things: he could run faster, climb higher, was ever so much better at games, and in thinking up jests, and it never made Bilbo angry at him. In fact he admired his cousin immensely, and was proud to be his friend.

He sat dejectedly upon the front doorstep, and before he knew it, a great tear was trickling down his face. Angrily he rubbed it away, and gave a mighty sniff. It was going to be a mighty long fall, sharing a _smial_ with someone who loathed him.

And he'd thought it was going to be such fun.

His birthday was in only a few days, and he'd eagerly planned the gifts he was going to give. But now, it all seemed flat and uninteresting, and he didn't care if he had a birthday or not.  
The door opened behind him.

"Bilbo." It was his father. "Let's walk."

"Yes, sir," he said, unenthusiastically. He supposed his father was going to berate him. He certainly deserved it, the way he'd been acting. Slowly he stood up, and they walked down the path.

"I've had a word with Sigismond," said Bungo. "I think he understands now that you were simply trying to help yesterday, and not making fun of him. It was not a very wise way to try to help, however."

"Yes, well, I know that _now _don't I, sir?"

"I think, however, that you can be of help to your cousin. Part of the reason he does not do as well as you in his lessons is that his cousin Isembard has so many students. Sigismond shares his time with at least four other cousins. You however, are my only student, or were my only student. And I hate to say this, but I do not believe that Isembard is very patient or demanding of excellence. He has tolerated sloppy work, and now Sigismond suffers from that."

Bilbo nodded. "I told Siggy he's just as clever as I am-maybe more-but I don't think he believes me."

Bungo smiled. "I daresay he is intelligent enough. I am thinking that I have been going about things wrong. I am not used to having two students at one time. So I am going to have you help me with him. I will give him an assignment tomorrow-your assignment will be to help him with his. Do not do it for him, but help him with any corrections he needs to make, and show him some of the ways you have of keeping your work organized and neat." He looked at his son sternly. "It's not to be a playtime-you will work, understand?"

Bilbo nodded solemnly. Anything to help Siggy, and to heal this breach between them.

For the next few days, the lessons were alternated. One day of regular lessons, with both the lads taking instruction from Bungo, and the next day they would collaborate. Siggy's work was improving greatly in appearance, and there was some gradual improvement in content as well.  
Now that Sigismond was seeing improvement himself, he was more tolerant of Bilbo's being better at lessons. And now that he had his cousin's help, the two lads had time for the things they had hoped to do during the visit: climbing trees, going for rambles, wading in the Water, fishing and other such pursuits.

The day before his birthday, Bungo let Bilbo off from his lessons, and spent the day working with Siggy on his own. Belladonna and Bilbo were spending the day going through the _mathom_ rooms to find birthday gifts.

"Mama," he said, "when I am grown, I think I will buy people new presents on my birthday!" He said this as he cast a jaundiced eye on a scarf of a rather sad shade of yellow and brown.

Belladonna laughed. "Well, when you are grown you may do so if it pleases you, although you may find the practice a bit wearing on your purse."

Bilbo picked up a bronze paperweight in the shape of a mushroom. "Do you think Uncle Rudigar will like that?"

Belladonna suppressed a smile. "I am quite sure he will; you know how fond he is of mushrooms." And, she thought, it should be to his taste, as it was a wedding gift from him. The idea of giving it back to him tickled her fancy. "What about something for your cousin, little Otho?"

Bilbo made a face. "Do I have to?"

His mother laughed. "I know he can be unpleasant, Bilbo, but he _is _your cousin."

Bilbo picked up the rejected scarf. "Here, then." He looked about. "I want to find that draughts set for Siggy-" He began to rummage in a corner, and then stopped. "Or maybe he would like this better now," he said.

Belladonna raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think he would like that?"

"Well," said Bilbo seriously, "he mightn't a few days ago, but I think he would now."

The next evening, Bilbo passed out the gifts as the party guests arrived, mostly Baggins relations. Tookland and Buckland were a bit far to travel for a mere child's birthday. But Siggy, of course, was there. He hung back until the other gifts had been given.

"Here, Siggy." Bilbo was a bit anxious. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it came to it, would Siggy really like it? It was really more of a grown-up present.

Siggy opened the package curiously, and then his face took on a look of pleased astonishment. "Oh Bilbo! This is splendid!"

Bilbo was surprised to see tears standing in his cousin's eyes. "Do you really like it then?"

Siggy looked at the nicely carved deskset, with its porcelain inkwell, a penholder, and little cubbyholes for holding letters. "You really do think I'm clever and can do well in lessons!"

"Of course I do!" said Bilbo stoutly.

"I'll use it right away!" said Siggy. He grinned. "And the first thing I'll use it for is to write a thank you note to you!"

(A/N: In my Shire the educational system is family based. Families which are literate rely on the parents, or on older siblings, to teach the young children to read and write. Among most families, that is as far as the education goes. However, among the gentry, more education is considered necessary. Among those families an uncle or cousin who has a scholarly bent may become the Family Tutor. Once the children have reached a certain amount of proficiency in the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic, they are passed on to that person to begin learning things like Shire history and so forth. Children who have an aptitude for music or art will also learn those skills from someone in the family.

Among working class hobbits, there are many who are not literate. Some never learn their letters, and tend to view such skills with suspicion (like the Gaffer Gamgee, Sam's father). However, it is not unheard of for an employer to teach an employee to read, or for a Master to teach an apprentice if he or she is illiterate.

I do think that the literacy rate in the Shire was somewhat higher than some authors portray it, as we are told how very busy the Shire Post was kept with letters.

The "Bingen" used as the first form of the Baggins name is a nod to the "Labingi" name which JRRT says was the Westron form of Baggins.

"Blooting" is the Bree-land form of "Blotmath"- November- and I think might still have been in use so early in the Shire's founding years.)


	6. Consequences

(A/N: The first part of this chapter is referencing my story "The Knight Has Been Unruly". At 21, Bilbo's age is about the equivalent of a human adolescent of between 13 to 14)

**Chapter 6: Consequences**

_2 Lithe, S.R. 1311_

"Well, lads," said Adalgrim, poking his head into Siggy's room, where Bilbo and Siggy were sitting morosely. "I've come to say farewell."

"I know," said Siggy glumly. "Uncle Bungo says they will be leaving after elevenses, and he is very angry with Bilbo."

"Oh fuddlebuckets!" Chop flushed. "I'm sorry Bilbo! I didn't know you were leaving today! It's all my fault!"

Bilbo refrained from agreeing with his older cousin. It had been Chop's idea to pilfer some of Gandalf's fireworks during the celebrations the night before. They'd been caught, and not only had Gandalf been angry with with them, but so had the Old Took and their parents. Instead he said, "If you did not know I was leaving, why did you come to tell me good-bye?"

"Because I am leaving. Grandfather says I am a bad influence on you younger ones, that now I am of age and too old for such tweenish japes. He told me I was endangering you two as well as little Rory and Faro by involving all of you." He sighed. "I had no idea, until Gandalf explained it, that his fireworks could be so dangerous. Anyway, I am being sent away from the Great Smials. There's a farm at Whitwell, and I am to move there and take it up. I can't even come back to visit here until Yule."

Bilbo and Siggy looked up in shock. "Oh, Chop!" Bilbo exclaimed, "How could he do that?"

"Easily enough, Bilbo. He is the Old Took, after all, as well as the Thain. He says I need to learn how to behave like an adult since I now am one, and I guess I agree with him. I should not have put you lads in trouble- and I really should not have brought Rory and Faro into it. Gandalf said people have been blinded or badly injured from not using fireworks properly." He sighed. "And I am sorry your visit was cut short, Bilbo."

Bilbo and Siggy ran to embrace their older cousin, whom they had always admired for his adventurous streak and his grand ideas. He ruffled their heads and said, "You won't recognise me when next you see me! I will be so staid and proper!"

"Will you write to us, Chop?" Bilbo asked.

He chuckled. "Only if you write to me," he said. "Good-bye, lads! Don't have too much fun without me!"

He turned and left. The younger lads watched after him. "Not much chance of that," Siggy muttered. Bilbo nodded morosely.

* * *

The ride back to Hobbiton was silent. Bilbo felt his disgrace keenly; his father was both angry and disappointed with him, and his even his mother was unhappy, though she tended to blame Adalgrim instead of Bilbo. As for Bilbo, he had a feeling that he would not be having much fun. He was now cut off from his two favorite Took cousins, and most of his Baggins cousins were too young or too old. As for the other lads in the village, most of the ones who were his age were working lads, already doing jobs for their parents or apprenticed to learn the skills they would need to make a living.

The family took their tea at _The Ivy Bush_when they arrived back at Hobbiton, and then went back up to Bag End. Bungo called Bilbo into his study.

"Have a seat, son," his father said.

Bilbo sat down heavily, and studied his toes.

"Tooks can be rather overwhelming, can they not?" Bungo's tone was lighter than Bilbo had expected.

"What do you mean, Papa?"

"It is very easy when among them to be either intimidated or carried along with their ideas in a flood of enthusiasm. I tend to the first reaction, and I had to learn to stand up to your mother's kin when necessary. It took me a long while to do so. You are half-Took yourself, and so you tend to the latter reaction. I think that what you need is a responsibility, something to steady you, something that will help you learn to make decisions on your own. I have just the job for you."

"Job?" Bilbo blinked. He was only twenty-one!

"Yes. As you know, Greenbriars is standing empty."

Bilbo nodded. Uncle Bingo had finally persuaded Grandmother Laura to move to Overhill and live with him and his wife Chica and their little son Falco last spring. The original Baggins ancestral hole was now uninhabited.

"I have given permission to your cousin Fosco and his family to move there. Fosco and Ruby are increasing their family once more- there will be another babe sometime shortly before the turn of the year. Dora is nine now and little Drogo has become a _faunt_. They need a larger home."

Bilbo brightened up at this news. He was fond of his little cousins, though he did not see them often, as they had been living in the Southfarthing near their Hornblower kin. But he wondered what it had to do with him, and it showed on the face he turned to his father.

"The _smial _needs turning out, Bilbo." He chuckled at the expression of horror on his son's face. "No, lad, I do not expect you to do all of it yourself. I have engaged the Twofoots to do the actual work of cleaning. But they will need help and supervision. There are still many things there that need to be disposed of-either sent on to your grandmother, or given away as _mathoms_, or saved for Cousin Fosco's family. You will be in charge. Mind you, I expect you to lend a hand or a strong back if it is needed, as well, and not to balk at a little dusting. And if there are things you believe to be especially valuable or of which you are unsure, I will be glad to give you advice. But the decisions will be yours."

Bilbo stared at his father in shock.

"You will meet Mag Twofoot there after second breakfast tomorrow, and go through the hole with him to decide what's to be done." Magpie Twofoot was the eldest of the Twofoot sons. His sisters Posey and Blossom and his brother Jackdaw often hired out to do such work.

" I expect you to spend at least half a day every day except Highday on this task until it is complete. You will still be coming to me for your lessons every other day between tea and supper. And as your cousins propose to move in the first week in Halimath, you must have it all done by then."

Bilbo just blinked. He did not know what to say. He expected it would be a long summer until Halimath.

Drogo smiled. "Good night, son."

"Good night, Papa," Bilbo said hoarsely. He got up and went silently to his room. For a long time he lay awake, wondering why his father had given him such a big responsibility when he had just done something so irresponsible.

* * *

" 'Morning, Master Bilbo," Magpie gave a bob of his head and Posey, who had accompanied him, gave a little half-curtsy. Bilbo blushed. Those were the sorts of things that working hobbits did around his father. It felt very odd for them to be doing them around him.

"Good morning, Mag! and Posey!" He blushed again. Mag was almost of age, but Posey was only a few years older than Bilbo, and very comely. Bilbo was unused to speaking to lasses unless they were cousins. He took out the key to the_ smial _that his father had handed him that morning. Hobbits did not lock their holes for the most part (except, he thought, in Buckland) but an empty _smial_was a different matter altogether. For one thing, it was a temptation to tweens.

The round blue door opened with a creak. Mag cocked his head. "That there door could use a bit o' oiling 'round the hinges," he said.

Bilbo took out his stylus and a little notepad. "_1. Oil hinges,_" he jotted down. He had decided to be very organised about all of this. He wanted to be sure his father's trust was not misplaced.

The front hall was empty, and the hole smelled musty. Bilbo remembered how cluttered it had been. Their feet left prints on the dusty flagstone floor. "_2. Clean floor_," he wrote. Posey turned and opened one the windows wide to let in some air, but there wasn't much of a breeze. It was a very hot and sticky summer. "_3. Air out hole._"

They glanced into the parlour on their left. There was still furniture in there, now covered with dustcloths. "_4. Does Cousin Fosco want any of the furniture?_"

They went from room to room, Mag's expert eyes spotting any needed repairs, and Posey noticing things that might need to be cleaned or replaced. Bilbo dutifully wrote down all of their suggestions, even when he was not sure he understood what they were. The mathom rooms made him sad. They were filled with many of Grandfather Mungo's clothes, and not a few of Grandmother Laura's. And there, in one room, was a box filled with many of the games Uncle Bingo had thought up: game boards and counters and dice and other fun things. What should be done with all of these things. "_12. Who can use grandfather's clothes?_"

* * *

"Bungo, don't you think that is a dreadfully large responsibility for a lad of Bilbo's age; why he is scarcely out of his childhood!"

Bungo nodded. "It is, my dear; but never fear, I will not allow him to flounder without guidance. I will help him, and Mag knows that I expect him to help Bilbo as well. He needs to learn to think for himself and make decisions. You know as well as I do that he is far too easily led by his friends."

"Especially his Tookish friends, you mean to say," Belladonna said ruefully. "A little mischief is expected of tweens. But medding with Gandalf's fireworks was dangerous! Oh, Bungo! He could have been badly hurt! I cannot believe Chop was so reckless with the younger lads!"

"I believe it, my love. And_ that _is precisely why I want Bilbo to do this, so that the next time Chop suggests something daft like stealing Gandalf's fireworks or Siggy decides that pummeling one another's teeth out is a good way to earn money, he will have the wisdom and the backbone to say 'no'."

* * *

Bilbo and the Twofoots came to the back door. He finished writing "_23. Paint kitchen, 24. Have chimneys cleaned._"

"Is there anything else, Mag?" he asked.

Mag smiled. "No, Master Bilbo, I think that will do to go on with. We'll see you tomorrow, and I'll bring Blossom and Jackdaw along."

Bilbo nodded, and watched them leave. Then he sighed and looked at his list. Suddenly it seemed that the time to Halimath was very short.

* * *

(A/N) I would like to thank Thranduil Oropherion Redux for the wonderful word "Fuddlebuckets", which he says originated with Niriel Raina. Thanks to you both.)


	7. Task Accomplished

(A/N: Bilbo is almost 21, the equivalent of a 13 to 14 year old human adolescent.)

**Chapter 7: Task Accomplished **

5 _Halimath, S.R. 1311_

The weather this day was blustery, but at least it was dry, thought Bilbo. The summer had been unusually cool and wet, and the rains had all seemed to come at just the wrong times to be of help to the gardens and crops. But today was fine enough. He stood nervously by the door of Greenbriars, newly painted a bright yellow. He fingered the key to the hole; his father would be here soon to look over his work, and in just a few hours his cousins would be arriving to take up residence. Would they like it? Would they understand how hard he had worked? What if they did not like it? He nervously rubbed the toe of his left foot against the heel of his right, and put a finger beneath his collar.

He heard voices, and looked up to see both his parents coming. He grinned; he had not expected his mother to come as well. For some reason the knowledge that both of them were there made him feel more confident.

His parents came through the gate in the low stone wall and up the newly-swept flagged path to the i_smial_/i. The herbaceous border along the walk had been nicely spruced up by Bag End's very own gardener, Tam Goodchild.

The portico above the door had been fixed and painted a pale green. Corbels that had been carved by Mag held up and supported a swath of turf that grew down from the Hill to shade the front step. On either side of the door were large round windows, now sparkling clean.

Bilbo greeted his parents, and then turned to unlock the door with the key. He opened the door wide- there was not a hint of a squeak in the hinges. He drew a deep breath.

"Go in and look around," he said, "I'll wait out here." For he had suddenly decided he could not bear to hear what they said, in case they did not like it. Or, what was worse, if they pretended to like it when they did not, for fear of hurting his feelings. He watched them pass in, and sat down on the front doorstep. It seemed he was sitting there for ages and ages. He heard laughter at one point, and his face burned. Were they laughing at something they liked, or had he done something completely ridiculous?

Finally, he felt the presence of his father behind him. "Bilbo, come in," Bungo said.

Bilbo stood wiping sweaty palms on his breeches, and went in, and was relieved to see proud smiles on both their faces.

"Son, you did a fine job. I think that your cousins will be very comfortable here," said his father.

His mother hugged him. "Oh, my dear! I am so proud of you!"

Now he did blush, this time with pleasure. "I couldn't have done it without Mag and the Twofoots and your help, too, Mama and Papa!" For true to his father's word, they had given him advice whenever he asked, and once or twice when there had been serious matters that would have been difficult for a lad of his age- such as the discovery in the larder that one of the large roots from the rooftree had broken through, or when a new well had to be dug, as the old one had dried up- his father had come down to consult with the workers. But he had not taken over, and once those problems had been dealt with, he had left things in Bilbo's hands once more.

"What was so funny?" he asked, "I heard you laughing!"

Both his parents burst into laughter again. "We were looking at the portrait over the fireplace!" said his mother. "The one of your Grandfather Mungo and his sisters and brothers! They all looked so solemn and stiff; and your father is the spitting image of your grandfather. And Aunt Pansy!" Belladonna chuckled.

"Aunt Pansy looked as though she had something stuck up her nose even then, and her a mere tween of twenty-two!" said Bungo.

Bilbo had to snicker himself. "I found it in one of the _mathom_ rooms, and it seemed right to put it up. Do you think I should put something else there?"

"No, it's just fine, son! And your cousin will be pleased, since his own father is in it. And Uncle Largo was a cunning little chap at that age, if the picture is anything to go by."

Bilbo breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I'm so glad that you all like it; I was afraid that you wouldn't."

"You have done a wonderful job, son. And I think that you've learned a few things along the way."

"I think I have, too, Papa."

"Well, shall we walk back up to Bag End for elevenses?" asked his mother. "Then the two of you can help me prepare luncheon for Cousin Fosco and his family!"

It was very nearly time for luncheon when there came a smart rapping at Bag End's front door. Bilbo rushed to open it. "Welcome, Cousin Fosco, Cousin Ruby!" Little Dora was holding her mother's hand and looking quite serious; Cousin Ruby was round with child, and her hair was windblown. Cousin Fosco was holding little Drogo in his arms. The _faunt_ had been sheltering his face against the wind on his father's shoulder, but at the sound of Bilbo's voice he twisted around and stared.

"Drogo, do you remember Cousin Bilbo?"

Drogo shook his head shyly.

"Hullo, Drogo," Bilbo said, waggling his fingers at his little cousin. He smiled at him, and then Drogo smiled back.

"Bi'bo? he asked.

"That's right! You are a clever lad!"

Drogo grinned and held out his arms to be taken. Bilbo took the _faunt_ and stood back. "Come in out of the wind! Mama is in the kitchen and Papa is in the dining room laying the table! Luncheon is almost ready!"

A fine repast had been prepared: onion soup, a salad of young greens, roasted potatoes, leg of lamb with mint jelly and for afters, a strawberry tart with cream, and fruit, bread and cheese for the filling up of corners..

The talk at the table was at first mostly of the food.

"I am afraid that I had to use some strawberry preserves from last season to fill out the tart. I am afraid we did not get many strawberries this year," said Belladonna apologetically.

"It's very good, Aunt Belladonna," said Dora politely.

"Thank you,dear! Would you like some more?"

At the child's nod, Bella helped her to another piece.

"I would never have been able to tell, if you had not mentioned it, Belladonna," said Ruby. "I must get the receipt* from you sometime."

"You are most welcome to it, Ruby. I will write it out for you this evening."

Fosco sighed. "Strawberries are not the only thing this year to have a poor yield. It has been unseasonably cool and wet, except when it has been blisteringly hot. I've never known weather so contrary! The yield of pipeweed this year was truly dismal, and the quality has suffered greatly."

"So Longo said in his last letter. He seemed to feel that the weather was meant as a personal affront to him. I have to say, I am worried about the harvest this year. The barley and the wheat got rain at just the wrong time!" replied Bungo. "My tenants are very worried. Root vegetables have done well, but if the weather stays too wet they are likely to rot in the ground before they can be gathered."

"I am worried about the winter. It may be a five meal winter, or even a four meal one..."

"Fosco!" said Ruby reprovingly. "The children," she hissed.

"Let's talk of more cheerful things, cousins! I think perhaps the time has come for you all to see your new hole!" Bungo intervened. Ruby was right- talk of possible grim times ahead was not for young ears.

This suggestion met with approval all around. "Why don't we just put the food away! The washing up can be done when we return," said Belladonna.

There was, in truth, very little in the way of leftover food ito/i put away, and the job was soon done. Belladonna joined Ruby and Fosco in the waggon the family had arrived in, while Bungo and Bilbo walked down the Hill with the children. Bungo had little Dora's hand, while Bilbo carried Dudo. The _faunt_ seemed to have taken quite a liking for Bilbo and was pleased to be carried by him.

When they arrived, Bilbo was given the privilege of unlocking the yellow door and flinging it wide open. Cousin Fosco and his family stepped inside.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Ruby. "This is lovely!"

A green wool rug worked with a border of roses occupied the center of the floor. To one side of the door was a convenient table, and to the other side, a small bench and a coat rack with an umbrella stand at the bottom. To the right an arched opening led to a corridor along which were located the various bedrooms and _mathom_ rooms. To the left was the front room, all the furniture uncovered, dusted and polished to a nicety. They passed through the front room to the dining room and the kitchen, which was gleaming; it had been painted and the floor had been scrubbed and polished. A large brick fireplace for cooking, with an oven built into one side stood against the far wall.

A large oak table stood in the center of the room, perfect for working on. There was a bench on each side of the long table.

After the family had exclaimed over the kitchen, Bilbo led them back to their rooms. On his mother's advice, he had arranged the children's room with one large bed, so the siblings could sleep close by one another. This seemed strange to him; he had only a small bed for himself. But he knew that when he visited the Great Smials, he slept in a single large bed with his cousins, so perhaps that was not so odd after all.

Dora was thrilled with the room- it had a large window, with gauzy curtains that billowed in on the breeze, and beneath it was a bench covered with pillows. Along one wall were fastened several shelves, and there were many toys Bilbo had found in the _mathom_ rooms arranged on them- dolls that had belonged to his aunts, blocks, a toy farm, a leather ball, a top and some of his Uncle Bingo's games. Bilbo set Drogo down and he toddled over to the shelf and picked up one of the little carven cows from the toy farm. The child turned with a wide grin and held it up. "Cow!" he exclaimed proudly. He walked over to Bilbo and handed it to him; Bilbo went over and got down the other farm figures and put them in the floor and knelt down to play with his little cousin. He did not even notice when Dora happily took one of the dolls from another shelf.

The adults left the children to their play and returned to the parlour. "I am impressed," said Fosco. "This hole is in fine repair."

"And it is nicely arranged! Of course there is still room for us to put our things that we brought, but there is no urgency," said Ruby. "We can make our home here right away, and take our time with anything else."

"Bilbo worked very hard at this," said Bungo.

"Bilbo?" Fosco blinked. "He did this?"

"Not alone, of course," said the proud father, "but he had most of the responsibility for seeing it done, and he stuck to the work even when it was frustrating or difficult."

Ruby smiled. "We shall have to give him an extra-nice birthday present this year."

"He's fond of books," said his mother.

* * *

At supper that evening Bilbo could not stop talking. "They really liked it! Did you hear what Cousin Fosco said about the portrait? He says he can't wait for his father to visit so that he can see it! And Cousin Ruby said she loved the rug- I'm so glad you let me have that rug from our i_mathom_/i rooms for their hole, mother! It fits in perfectly!  
And Drogo and Dora really liked their room, too. Isn't little Drogo the cunningest thing? He seems to like me!"

His parents did not seem to mind at all that they could not get a word in edgewise.

* * *

*"Receipt" is an old-fashioned term for "recipe".


	8. Twentyone

(A/N: At 21, Bilbo is the equivalent of a 13-14 year old human.)

**Chapter 8: Twenty-one**

_21-22 Halimath, S.R. 1311 _

Bilbo looked at the gifts his parents had placed before him: a small box and a soft package (both labeled "From Papa and Mama"); another box-this one somewhat larger- bearing a tag that said "From Gammer Laura"; a flat package from "Grandfather and Grandmother Took; and a somewhat oddly shaped package tied up in much paper and a lot of twine, "From Siggy to Bilbo". The latter three had all arrived by post. Twenty-one was not an important birthday, not like five or thirteen or twenty or thirty-three when he would come of age. It was not even moderately important like twenty-five when he would be allowed to smoke a pipe or go into the taverns and order half-a-pint by himself, or twenty-eight when he would be allowed to court a lass if he wanted to. It was just an ordinary birthday, and he would receive only a few gifts today, and give out perhaps a few more tomorrow on his birthday. There would be a small dinner party tomorrow: Cousin Fosco and his family, and a few other family members would attend, and Bilbo would give out the presents he had selected.

Bilbo looked at the packages, and then at his parents.

"Go ahead," laughed his mother. "First breakfast will wait a few moments!"

Bilbo picked up the small box. He gave it a little shake and it rattled slightly. Carefully he lifted the lid. "Oh Papa! Oh Mama!" There, nestled in the box was a silver fob, and on the end of the fob was a large shiny brass key.

"It's your own key to Bag End," said Bungo. "You have proven to us this summer that you are ready for such a responsibility."

Bilbo's eyes shone as he looked at the key. He put it back in the box, and reached for the other package. It was soft, and he guessed it might be clothing. Untying the ribbon, he allowed the white muslin in which it was wrapped to fall away. He held it up. It was a weskit, in a shiny silvery-blue fabric, richly embroidered with vines and leaves in the many colours of fall: deep wine-reds, coppery oranges, subdued dark golds. The buttons were cunningly leaf-shaped, and of burnished bronze. He gasped and held it high. Never had he possessed such a grown-up article of clothing before. "Thank you!" he grinned.

Quickly he opened the packages from his grandparents. Laura had sent a nicely carved foot-grooming set, and from his Took grandparents there was a book about the first Took Thain, Isumbras I.

He picked up the gift from Siggy, and felt of it. It seemed as though there were several items bound up together. It was very lumpy and was wrapped in brown paper and what seemed to be an entire ball of string.

He picked in frustration at one of the many knots, knowing that this way of wrapping up his gift was one of Siggy's jokes. His parents watched for a moment, and then Belladonna giggled. "My nephew has quite a sense of humour," she said. And she pulled her sewing scissors out of her pocket and handed them to Bilbo. He took them with alacrity, and then slipping the point beneath the string, began to snip away. As the cut ends of the string sprang away, the paper slipped and all the items within came clattering out, some hitting the table, and others bouncing to the floor. "Fuddlebuckets!" Bilbo swore, as he grabbed one of the hard leather rings before it rolled off the table. His father tightened his lips at the language, but Belladonna gave a slight shake of her head, so he said nothing. One of the heavy metal stakes landed with a clang, barely missing Bungo's foot. "It's a quoits set!" Bilbo exclaimed, grinning. "Now Siggy and I can play them here when he visits!"

First breakfast was porridge laced with honey and filled with dried berries, buttery scones, soft boiled eggs and fragrant tea. The family was just finishing up when there came a knock at the kitchen door.

"Come in!" called Bungo.

The door opened. It was Mag Twofoot. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Bungo," he said, "but we have a birthday present for young Master Bilbo from the family."

"Do come in, then, Mag!" Bungo replied.

Mag was bearing a small basket, and he proffered it to Bilbo, who lifted off the white napkin that covered it. In it was a fragrant seedcake, still warm from the oven. "Blossom baked it, Master Bilbo!"

"Thank you, Mag!" said Bilbo. "Would you like to stay and share some with us?"

Mag blushed and shook his head. "No thank you, Master Bilbo! I've got me work to see to. We just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday on the morrow!" He gave a slight bow of his head in farewell.

Bilbo gazed at the seedcake happily, and then said to his parents, "Will you share it with me while it's still warm?"

Of course there was only one answer to that! They left about half of it to have with their elevenses later, and then Bilbo took his gifts to his room.

He was admiring himself in the mirror, resplendent in his new waistcoat with the silver fob hanging from his pocket, when he heard a knocking upon the door. He could tell that his mother had answered, and wondered who the visitor was.

"Bilbo!" Belladonna called. "You have a guest."

He found his little cousin Dora standing in the front hall with his mother. Dora had something in her hands- it was a book! He could see a blue cover, but her hands were over the title.

"Happy Birthday, Cousin Bilbo," she said solemnly. Bilbo thought Dora a funny child. She was so serious most of the time. "Mommy and Poppy and Drogo and me got this for you. Mommy said I could bring it up the Hill to you all by myself." She held it out to him, and he took it from her carefully. He looked at the title: _Mushrooms of the Shire and Buckland_ by by Roderic Brandybuck.

"Why, thank you!" Bilbo exclaimed. "This is a splendid book!"

"It has pictures," said Dora, "of all the mushrooms- even the Bad Ones!"

"Won't you join us for second breakfast, dear?" asked Belladonna, as Bilbo flipped through some of the pages of the new book.

"Mommy said I could if you invited me," she answered. "It wouldn't be proper if you did not invite me."

Bella's lips twitched in a smile, but she suppressed it. "Well, I have invited you, and it is nearly ready. Bilbo?" Bilbo was engrossed in the book. "Bilbo! Second breakfast is ready!"

"Oh!" He closed the book. Then he looked at himself. "Perhaps I should take off my new waistcoat! I don't wish to spoil it before tomorrow!"

Belladonna laughed. "Of course! You run and change. Dora and Papa and I will wait upon you in the kitchen."

After second breakfast, Bilbo persuaded Dora to come out in the front garden with him, and they played with his new quoits set, until she had to leave, for she had promised her mother to be home in time for elevenses. It was as well, because the morning that had begun so promisingly had dissolved into rain and grey drizzle shortly afterwards.

Bungo had excused Bilbo from his lessons for both this day and the next, so his mother suggested he use the free time to write thank you letters for his gifts. He did so, and then spent most of the afternoon and evening, save for mealtimes, absorbed in his new books.

* * *

Bilbo's birthday dawned grey and overcast, but without any feeling of rain in the air. He rose early, excited as he always was on his birthday. He heard his parents bustling in the kitchen making first breakfast- was that Papa's griddlecakes he smelled? And sausages. He quickly put on his dressing gown and and hurried to the kitchen.

The morning passed in a blur of activity. Belladonna sent Bilbo and Bungo off to see to the gifts Bilbo was giving. He'd made a selection of a number of items from the family _mathom_ rooms, and he and his father would see to wrapping and tagging them as Belladonna saw to the cleaning of the _smial_ and the preparations for the meal. She had engaged Blossom and Posey Twofoot to assist her in the cleaning and cooking, and to serve at table during luncheon and tea while the guests were there. There were short breaks for second breakfast and elevenses.

After elevenses, Bilbo was sent off to take a bath and get dressed for the party. The guests would be arriving shortly before luncheon. He scrubbed till he was red, and then dressed in his nicest suit of clothes. The new weskit with the silver fob figured prominently, and he could not help but preen just a little as he looked at his reflection in his mirror. He carefully brushed the brown curls on both head and toes, and then went out to the front hall. His father was there, stacking the presents Bilbo planned to give  
out on the table that stood next to the front door.

"Hullo, Papa! Do I look all right?"

"You look splendid, son!"

Just then there was the first knock upon the door. Cousin Fosco and his family were the first to arrive. They greeted their guests, and then Bilbo handed out the gifts, starting with little Drogo, to whom he gave a leather ball that had once been his own as a _faunt_. For Dora there was a puzzle his Uncle Bingo had made for him when he was the same age as she was- it had little tiles that slid about in a framework; when they were all properly lined up they formed a picture of a basket of kittens. Cousin Ruby received some balls of yellow and green wool yarn, perfect for knitting up baby things. (Belladonna had simply smiled and told Bilbo "yes" when he found them in the _mathom_ room. She had bought them in anticipation of giving her son the brothers and sisters who never came, and she now knew never would.) Finally he handed Cousin Fosco the gift he had chosen for him. It was a special jar meant for holding pipeweed and keeping it fresh. Cousin Fosco was quite pleased with it, and was effusive in his thanks, making Bilbo blush red as sunrise.

Soon Aunt Belba and Uncle Rudigar arrived with Bilbo's cousin Herugar, who was only a couple of years younger than Bilbo. Herugar was also Cousin Ruby's nephew. Aunt Linda ( who had wed a Proudfoot) was there with her little son Odo. Uncle Bodo had not come, as he had business in Michel Delving.

Bilbo dutifully passed out the gifts to his guests. These were all who came for luncheon, though there would be a few more guests for tea. Luncheon would be in the dining room; tea, if the weather held, would be in the front garden.

Luncheon was a fine repast, consisting of most of Bilbo's favorite foods. The cake was to be served at tea when the rest of the guests had come, but there was a brambleberry trifle instead for afters.

Afterwards, Bilbo and Herugar went out to play with the quoits, and with the large kickball Bilbo had given Herry as his gift. The youngest cousins were put down for naps, and the fathers went out to smoke and to watch the lads play, all the while talking in low worried tones about the poor harvest.

As the other guests began to arrive near teatime, Bilbo once more handed out gifts. Cousin Polo arrived with his wife and little ones. He was Chop's uncle, and he bore a package and a letter. "Since I'm too late to give you Chop's gift, I'll give it to your parents for now; but I don't think that the rule applies to letters." Of course the gift should have come before noon; Bilbo was curious, but understanding. Polo handed the letter to Bilbo, who was torn between his duties as a host, and his wish to go off and read it. Reluctantly, Bilbo put the letter in his pocket.

Shortly afterwards some of his Goodbody relatives began to arrive, and now there were enough guests near his age to make a good game of kick-the-ball possible. The young ones divided up into teams, Bilbo at the head of one and Herry of the other one, and the vigorous game began, and lasted until the tweens were distracted by the meal preparations.

Tea was an even more lavish spread than luncheon had been: biscuits of every variety, fairy cakes, little sandwiches cut into fanciful shapes, stuffed eggs, stuffed mushrooms- and finally a large cake, filled with dried fruits and nuts and topped with marzipan.

After tea, the party began to wind down, and the guests to leave.

As Posey and Blossom began to carry the dishes back into the _smial_ and Mag and Jack appeared to take away the tables- there was no leftover food to speak of- Bilbo started to help.

Bungo put his hand on his son's shoulder. "That's not necessary, son. You are tired out. Why don't you take a little time for yourself, and get some rest before supper?"

Bilbo looked up gratefully at his father and nodded. "Thank you, Papa."

He went to his room and took off his jacket and his fine new waistcoat and hung them over the back of his chair. Remembering the letter, he took it out and lay down upon his bed.

_18 Halimath, S.R. 1311_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Sorry I couldn't come to your birthday party, cousin! Farming's a lot harder work than I thought it would be, though it can be fun in its own way. Fortunately I have some good help in the Goldworthy family. But the weather's been all wrong this summer, and my first harvest does not look to be too bountiful._

_Oh well. I don't wish to be gloomy, but to wish you happy returns of the day and all that. I hope you enjoy your gift; it came to me originally through Uncle Isengar. _

_Write soon and tell me what you've been up to!_

_Fond regards and such,__  
__Your cousin, __  
__Chop_

Bilbo smiled at his cousin's letter. It sounded so like him. He wondered what Chop had sent him, and drifted off into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

Bungo tapped on the door. "Bilbo? Supper is ready."

There was no answer. Bungo opened it and looked in. His son was sprawled up his bed, still dressed, and sound asleep. For once, thought the fond father, perhaps sleep was more needed than food...


	9. There Came an Early Snow

(A/N: Winterfilth is the equivalent of October in the Shire Calendar.)

**Chapter 9: There Came an Early Snow…**

_16 Winterfilth, S.R. 1311_

"Mama! Papa! You are not going to believe this!" Bilbo banged on his parent's door; even in his excitement, he knew better than to barge in. He had been twelve when he learned just why that was a bad idea.

"What's wrong, son?" his father called. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing's wrong. At least I don't think so! Look out your window!" Bungo and Belladonna heard him running down the corridor. They both rose and went over to their window and stared out in astonishment at the snow swirling and dancing and at the white beginning to cover the front garden.

"Snow?" said Belladonna, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Snow," said Bungo grimly. "I am not so sure that Bilbo was right when he said nothing was wrong. Snow this early is just not natural."

Bella looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"When was the last time the Shire got snow this early in the year?"

His wife went pale. "Oh!"

There was not a hobbit in the Shire who did not learn the tale of the Long Winter of 1158, and the devastation it brought.

Bungo drew in a deep breath. "Still, I could be wrong! Perhaps it's merely a freak storm, and not a harbinger of things to come! And our son seems to be delighted. Since he is awake, I think it may be time for first breakfast!"

Bungo and Belladonna slipped into their dressing gowns and made their way to the kitchen, where Bilbo had already begun breakfast. The teakettle was on the boil, and he had started some porridge. Soon a hearty breakfast was before them.

There was little to do in the _smial_between first breakfast and second, just some tidying up, and the washing up. Belladonna began to prepare for the second breakfast, though she'd wait to cook until it was closer to the mealtime. But she also began to prepare for elevenses and luncheon. She knew Bilbo and his friends would be out playing in the snow most of the day. Snow was enough of a rarity in the Shire to make it a treat, especially for the younger ones. She firmly put aside her husband's forebodings of the morning.

For elevenses, she thought, perhaps some gingersnaps and sugar biscuits and dried berry scones, with hot milk mixed with cinnamon and honey. She'd make plenty for Bilbo and his friends.

As for luncheon, a hearty soup and fresh bread would be just the thing. She'd set the soup on to simmer right away, thick with potatoes, carrots, parsnips, beans and a big ham bone to give it flavor. She also started the bread, so that it would have plenty of time to rise.

Immediately after breakfast, Bilbo bundled up in his warmest clothes, including, at his mother's insistence, a knitted cap, a muffler, and gloves.

Soon enough, the Party Field to the east of the Hill was filled with teens and tweens and even a few of the smaller fry. The tweens were building snow forts and stockpiling snowballs in the hopes of a grand snowball fight. Several of the teens had begun building snowhobbits, embellished with small stones for eyes and twigs for noses and arms.

Bungo and Belladonna bundled up as well and wandered down to watch for a while, as did a few other parents. Soon enough, the Party Field to the east of the Hill was filled with teens and tweens and even a few of the smaller fry. The tweens were building snow forts and stockpiling snowballs in the hopes of a grand snowball fight. Several of the teens had begun building snowhobbits, embellished with small stones for eyes and twigs for noses and arms. The youngest children were simply enjoying running about in the snow and making footprints.

Bungo and Belladonna bundled up as well and wandered down to watch for a while; Fosco was there with Dora and little Drogo. Drogo sat at his father's feet, bundled up until he was as round as an apple. He was busily picking up mittenfuls of snow and patting it and then trying to eat it.

Fosco looked down and shook his head. "His mother wouldn't like that, but I can't see the harm in it."

"Where is Ruby?" asked Belladonna.

"As cold as it is, and as icy, she thought it best not to come out right now."

"And quite right, in her condition," said Lily Goodbody, who had just joined them. She was a cousin by marriage to both Bungo and Fosco. She looked at the children playing, her own sons among the tweens, who having finished their snow fort and their pile of snowballs were preparing for battle. She shook her head. "I don't know why lads do that! How much fun can it be to get hit with a face full of snow?" She turned to Belladonna with a look that said, _aren't they ridiculous?_. Belladonna just shrugged- she had taken part in several snowball fights with her brothers and it really was a lot of fun, but she'd never be able to explain that to Lily Goodbody.

As they watched, some of the younger teens and children had begun to form a circle. Piping voices went up in a nursery song not usually heard until Afteryule, as the young ones held hands and began to dance around:

"Snowflakes! Snowflakes! Snowflakes!  
A blanket of white the snow makes!  
A covering cold and white  
To little hobbits' delight!  
Lads and lasses sing and dance  
While the Sun gives them a chance.  
Soon enough it will melt away,  
But while it lasts we'll laugh and play!  
Time to chase and time to run!  
Time to have a lot of fun!  
'Round and 'round and 'round and 'round!  
In the soft snow all fall down!"

At the last words of the song, the circle broke apart and the little ones tumbled laughing to the ground. Belladonna chuckled, and leaned over to Bungo: "I'm going back to Bag End and get elevenses ready! Perhaps I'll bring it out here to warm the children up!"

Lily and another mother, Robinia Bunce, thought this was a splendid idea, and they accompanied her back to the _smial_ where they bustled about preparing platters of biscuits, and filled stone crocks with warm milk and honey, and with mulled apple juice flavoured with cinnamon. Bungo and another friend, Farmer Button, appeared at the back door in time to help carry the trays down. Bella brought out several mugs of polished wood she kept especially for the occasions of entertaining groups of young ones, and they went back down the Hill, where they found a few others had thought of the same thing.

The children and tweens were quite ready for the treat, hungrier than usual for their play in the cold and frosty air it took no coaxing to bring them running. Soon there was neither crumb nor drop left of elevenses. Bilbo and some of his friends carried the trays of dirty dishes back to the hole before they rushed back down.

"Look what Jack and Hom have!" Bilbo exclaimed. Jackdaw Twofoot, and his friend Holman Greenhand were dragging something behind them- an old tabletop, it appeared, with two holes drilled in one end and a rope tied through for a handle.

"What are you going to do?" Bilbo asked, rushing up to them with his other friends.

"We're going to drag it up the Hill and then slide down on it!" said Jack. "It will go a treat, don't you know, Master Bilbo! Slide down slick as slick can be!"

"Can I have a turn?" Bilbo asked. Jack grinned and nodded. Some of the other tweens also were clamoring for a turn.

"How about me?" asked Tolo Goodbody.

"I don't think so," said his mother who had overheard. "It sounds dreadfully dangerous!"

"But mother!"

Belladonna glanced over at Bungo, who was in earnest conversation with Farmer Button and well out of earshot. Then she grinned at Jack. "Why don't we see just how safe it is, Jack? Send me down the hill. If I don't tumble off, it should be safe for the younger hobbits."

"You, Mrs. Baggins?" he asked, horrified.

"Cousin Belladonna, you can't mean that!" exclaimed Lily.

And from Bilbo, whose face was flaming with embarrassment: "Mama!"

But a determined Took is a force to be reckoned with.

"Come along, Jack, Hom- show me how slick it can go!" She took Hom by the elbow of the other arm- he was dragging the tabletop with the other- and started off.

There was no reckoning with Belladonna as she headed up the Hill, Jack trotting behind her stammering. It wasn't his place to gainsay her, and yet he could not help but feel it was not a good idea.

Bilbo ran for his father. But by the time he had interrupted his father's conversation, and gained his attention to tell him what was going on, Belladonna and the two lads had reached the top of the Hill.

Bungo looked up in exasperation. There was not a thing he could do about it now. Not that there had been much chance that he could have done a thing about it anyway. He opted for the face-saving and comforting strategy of putting an arm around his son's shoulders and plastering a smile on his face. "That's all right, son. Your mother surely knows what she's doing." _I hope,_ he thought in resignation. All eyes gazed up the Hill.

Atop the Hill, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, Belladonna sat down atop the tabletop and firmly tucked her skirts behind her legs. She took the rope handle in both hands and looked back at the two who were gazing at her in horror. "Give me a shove, lads!" she ordered firmly, and in spite of themselves, they did.

Oh, it was splendid! It quite took her back to her youth and the memories of sledding with her brothers. She laughed aloud as the tabletop gained speed, zipping down the Hill and onto the flatter ground of the Party Field, finally losing momentum and stopping itself in a drift of snow.

All had run to where she finally came to a halt. Breathless with laughter, she allowed Bungo to pull her to her feet and catch her in a thoroughly improper embrace topped off with a rare public kiss. If Bilbo had been embarrassed before, it was nothing to the redness of his face now.

Bella turned to look at the scandalised Lily Goodbody. "I do believe that it is perfectly safe." She stepped back and began to brush the snow from her skirts. Fortunately they had stayed tucked in, which had been her only true fear. Speeding down the Hill in the snow held no fear for her- but having her skirts come flying up over her head did!

The children were now all clamoring for a turn, and rules were agreed upon, that the youngest children needed to have an older one accompany them, and that some of the fathers would remain near the base of the Hill to ensure a safe arrival at the bottom.

Belladonna said "I do believe that I need to get back to the kitchen and see to luncheon." Invitations to the others were issued, and though many declined, having their own lunches to see to, at least a dozen agreed to accept the invitation to Bag End. Most of the mothers now left the field and the oversight of the children to the fathers.

Bilbo was at first furious with his mother, but the admiring comments of his friends- especially when Jack told him "Your mum's a corker, she is!" more than served to assuage his embarrassment. And after all, she was a Took, wasn't she?

By the time the young ones had their fill of sledding their stomachs were reminding them of the time.

Lily Goodbody was not one of those who joined them, nor was her son Tolo, in spite of his pleas. But Fosco, along with little Dora and Drogo, was, as were his Hornblower cousins Largo and Lando who were a couple of years younger than Bilbo and were visiting at Greenbriars. Robinia Bunce and her son Pogo, and her little daughter Heather came along, as did Jack Twofoot and Hom Greenhand and his cousin Hob, who was visiting from Tighfield. And Bilbo's Bolger cousins, Herugar and Rudivar were there as well. All in all, it was a sizeable and jolly party that came in from the cold.

Once the hobbits had put themselves outside sizeable portions of soup and bread and cheese and fruit, the adults left the parlour to the young folk while they sat about the kitchen sipping tea.

The young folk played at riddles for a while, and then Jack brought out his flute, and there was some dancing, until they nearly upset the tea table. As it had been an unplanned party, the guests began to fade away quietly before teatime, so as not to impose upon their hosts. Robinia lingered long enough to help Belladonna with the washing up; Bilbo and Pogo helped their mothers while Bungo straightened up the parlour, being careful not to waken Heather who was only five and had fallen asleep on the hearthrug. Finally they, too, left.

Alone again, the Baggins family took their ease before the fire, both Bungo and Bilbo engrossed in books, and Belladonna with her knitting. Supper was a simple affair of toasted cheese before the fire, accompanied by leftover soup.

The next morning dawned, and with it somewhat warmer weather, though the wind was still damp and chill, the snow had begun to melt. In only a few days, there was no sign of the snow at all, just the usual drear of late autumn.

"See now," said the gossips in _The Ivy Bush_, " 'twas just a freak snow after all, and not a sign o' bad times."

But Farmer Button remembered his talk with Squire Baggins. The harvest had been lean, and it was a long time 'till Spring. He sipped his ale and kept his own counsel.


	10. When Winter First Begins to Bite

(A/N: Just a reminder- Bilbo at 21 is about the same maturity as a human adolescent of 13-14, according to the two-thirds conversion of Hobbit to Human ages.)**  
**

**Chapter 10: When Winter First Begins to Bite**

_17 Blotmath, S.R. 1311_

Bilbo huddled in his bed, covers pulled up over his head. He burrowed into his pillows and did his best to ignore the smell of first breakfast and the rumblings of his stomach. He was not going to first breakfast, and that was that!

"Bilbo?" he heard his mother's soft voice at his door.

"Tweens often sleep late in the mornings, my love," said his father.

"I suppose." His mother's voice sounded dejected.

Silence. Bilbo hoped they would go on and eat first breakfast. He concentrated on the dreary sound of the rain on his window in the hopes of falling asleep again. But his mind kept drifting back to the last few days...

_It had started about six days earlier, with the first of the nasty late autumn rains began. He could not ever recall them being so early, so chill and so persistent before, and from the things he overheard the adults saying, neither could they. Every one of those six days had been alike: rain, rain, rain, the livelong day, interspersed with thunder and lightning, and nights so cold that more than once during that time they'd awakened to the sparkle of thin ice coating the garden and making the flagstone path perilous. Then the rain began again and the ice would melt away. Bilbo wished it would turn to snow- at least snow was pretty. _

_Bilbo had been cooped up in the smial with his parents far more than was usual for him. At first it had been rather fun: reading the day away, playing draughts with his father, and helping his mother cook. But as day after dreary day continued, Bilbo found it harder and harder to concentrate on reading or anything else. And he began to notice his parents having furtive conversations that broke off when they became aware that he was near. _

_"No, Bella, braving the rain to go into Hobbiton will be of no use. None of the shops have..." his father stopped speaking abruptly when he spotted Bilbo's curious expression. _

_Later on, as he had helped his mother in the kitchen, he had offered to fetch something from the larder. _

_"No, son!" she had said sharply. "I will get it!" _

_Bilbo felt hurt at her tone. He had only been trying to help! _

_But it had not been until yesterday that the puzzle became clear. _

_It had started at elevenses- somewhat more meagre than their usual fare, tea, scones, an apple cut up and arranged on a plate. Bilbo had been hungry enough to start in eating right away, when he noticed his parents were only having cups of tea. _

_"We aren't very hungry, son!" said his father. "You finish it. No use letting it go to waste." _

_Luncheon had been vegetable-barley soup; Bilbo noticed his parents were eating very slowly. He had finished seconds, and they were still only half finished with their first serving. He was beginning to have some very nasty suspicions. _

_Tea had been much like elevenses, though supper was a rather more ordinary meal. Still, Bilbo could not help but notice that his parents were giving themselves much smaller servings, and his own food began to taste like ashes in his mouth. _

_He recalled a hastily hushed-up conversation between his father and cousin Fosco last summer: _"a five-meal winter, or even a four-meal..."_ He realised now that he knew what it meant. _

_His parents were stinting themselves so that he would have more to eat. _

_He couldn't. He just couldn't let them do it. Yet it was clear they would, whether he willed or nilled. _

_Well, if they could sacrifice their elevenses and their tea, he could sacrifice first breakfast at least._

And so he lay here now, determined not to rise until they had the chance to eat a proper breakfast. If he rose too soon, he'd just find they'd put it by for him.

After a while the steady drum of the rain did lull him back to sleep...

And so began a new routine. Bilbo began to sleep in long enough for his parents to breakfast without him, and elevenses and tea continued to be very brief and unsustaining meals. And the rain kept up for three more days.

_20 Blotmath, S.R. 1311_

When the rain ceased, the cold became even more bitter. Ice had formed everywhere.

That night, Bilbo was awakened by the sound of a loud crack! followed by a crashing sound. A few minutes later, there was a series of loud cracks, all sounding like nothing so much as old Gandalf's Midsummer fireworks! Bilbo rose from his bed and looked out his window, but could see nothing in the dark, and most certainly no signs of fireworks in the sky.

He went back to bed, and tried to sleep, but he was jerked awake several times by more of the loud sounds. He sat up and got out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown as he went, and lighting his bedside candle he took it with him into the hallway- where he found his father, coming towards him.

"Go back to bed, son. I just looked out the door, and with no Moon or stars out tonight, there is nothing to see from the doorstep. And it's far too cold and slippery to go further in this weather."

"Do you know what it could be, Papa?"

Bungo shook his head. "I've no idea. All I know is, it is not fireworks."

So his father had noticed what it sounded like also. But it was not very reassuring to hear him admit ignorance. Reluctantly he went back to bed.

He could not sleep. He was hungry. Normally he would have gone to the kitchen and made himself some tea and toast or something. But that was not to be thought of now. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. He was wide awake when the light began to stream in through the window, and he rose and padded across the cold floor to see what the night had wrought.

He blinked in astonishment. Everywhere was the glitter of ice; in some parts of the garden it looked like snow, but he could tell it was not. The large oak in the front garden looked as though it had been struck by lightning- it was split asunder, but there was no charring such as a lightning strike would bring. The chestnut that had stood by the front gate had massive limbs broken and dangling, and one branch nearly as large as a small tree of itself, lay upon the ground!

There was no question of skipping first breakfast today. He dressed rapidly, and found his parents also dressed and preparing breakfast. It was porridge, and he made no comment on the fact that it was unaccompanied by toast and butter, or sausages or eggs. They had tea, and some brambleberry preserves to put in the porridge instead of honey.

After breakfast, Bilbo and his father bundled up as warmly as they could, and ventured out. They walked carefully alongside the path instead of on its icy surface and went to examine the tree.

"It is a shame," said Bungo "It was very large and old. I was careful to make sure the trees were preserved when we planned Bag End, and your mother was especially fond of this one." They began to walk about their property- most of the trees had lost limbs and their crowns had been destroyed. Fortunately, the rooftree, also an oak, was not too badly damaged although it too, had lost a few sizable branches.

"What caused this?" Bilbo asked.

" 'Twas the weight of the ice what broke the limbs," said a voice behind them. "That and the sap a-freezing inside the wood."

Bilbo and Bungo turned to see their gardener, Tam Goodchild. He was surveying the broken trees with his hands on his hips and an affronted expression. He shook his head. "Ah well, _" 'Tis an ill wind as blows no good"_, as the old saw goes. Looks like there will be a mort of firewood hereabouts. And if winter goes on as it's begun, we'll be a-needing it."

The three of them made their way to the road, and headed down Bagshot Row, where they were joined by others: the Twofoots, the Rumbles, the Goodchilds, Cousin Fosco, Uncle Bodo…

That day, and several days after, Bilbo spent alongside his father and the other male hobbits of Hobbiton chopping and splitting firewood. There was no difference made in this emergency between the gentry and the working hobbits, save that the working hobbits accomplished more, being more accustomed to such tasks. Bilbo found himself most often working alongside Jack Twofoot, Hom Greenhand, his cousins Herry Bolger and Tolo Goodbody, and Tam's sons Timmon and Tomba, most often called Tim and Tom. They were kept busy splitting the wood the older hobbits had cut into hearth-sized lengths. Younger lads and old gaffers bundled the smallest of the broken branches into kindling.

Mothers and sisters came to bring hot tea and food out to the workers. The hot tea, though weak, was plentiful; the food was not. Elevenses and tea were no longer mealtimes, and the tweens especially felt the pinch. Yet none of them ever suggested raiding a larder. That would be to take the food from someone else's mouth. In bountiful times such a thing was just a lark; now it would be cruel.

Bilbo and his father returned home each night weary and hungry, to take their supper (consisting now almost exclusively of soup) and then to fall into an exhausted stupor until the morning light. Their hands went from blistered to calloused in record time.

Day by day, the damaged trees and broken limbs were transformed into tidy stacks of firewood; soon every cot and smial in Hobbiton had been provided with at least a cord of wood, even those who had no trees on their property shared in the bounty, for there was plenty to go around, and many of those who received the wood had done the labour to cut and split it. Finally, after one last weary day, the last of the wood from the ice storm was split and stacked.

_28 Blotmath, S.R. 1311_

The next morning dawned bright- the Sun shone even more brightly than was her usual wont into Bilbo's window, and he rose to look out.

Snow. Snow much deeper than the snow that had briefly fallen last month, when he had been so excited, when they had so much fun.

But Bilbo felt no exhilaration or excitement now. Only dread. Winter had well and truly begun.

(A/N: My own first experience of an ice storm was the second winter after we had moved here, in early 2008, when my husband and I were awakened by a series of sounds like explosions or gunfire. We were shocked to discover that the sounds were actually the sounds of trees breaking. The resulting devastation of the trees was much like what we had seen after Hurricane Katrina! We had no idea that mere ice would wreak such havoc!)


	11. When Pools Are Black and Trees Are Bare

(A/N: At 21, Bilbo's maturity is about the same as a 13-14 year old human.)

**Chapter 11: When Pools Are Black and Trees Are Bare **

_3 Foreyule, S.R. 1311_

Bilbo huddled beneath several blankets. He had thought that he would get used to being hungry in the morning by now, but his stomach kept on protesting anyway. He and his parents had been cooped up together in Bag End for five days now, venturing out no further than the woodpile.

His mother's temper had been unusually short, and his father had been wrapped in gloom. Bilbo was beginning to feel bored, and wanted nothing so much as to get out! Yet there was nothing to get out for. The shops had little to sell, and other families and friends were cooped up as well. Visiting would be an imposition, with provender so short.

He glanced out the window. It looked as though it might be late enough that he could get up without interrupting his parent's first breakfast. He slid out of bed, washed quickly in the icy cold water in his basin, and dressed as quickly as he could. Then he padded down the passages to the kitchen. They were still at the table, sipping tea. Bilbo poured himself a cup and sat down with them.

"Shall I get you some porridge, son?" asked Drogo.

"No thank you, Papa. I will wait until second breakfast." His father nodded. Bilbo was pretty sure his parents had guessed what he had been doing, just as he had guessed what they had been doing. But so long as no one _said_ anything about it, there was no reason that it could not continue until things were better. And they just _had_ to get better, thought Bilbo desperately.

He was sipping slowly at his tea, which had one saving grace: it was hot, and warmed him from the inside out, when there came a rapid knocking at the kitchen door. The three of them looked at one another in surprise: who could it be at this hour? Bungo rose and opened the door. It was Posey Twofoot.

She rushed in. "Mrs. Baggins! Can you come down to Greenbriars? It looks as if Mrs. Ruby will have her babe today-my mum's there- and she sent for you!" Mrs. Twofoot was one of Hobbiton's midwives, but more to the point, she lived near Greenbriars.

"Oh my!" Bilbo's mother got up at once. "Come in, Posey, and warm up while I get dressed and ready!"

"We will all go, dear," said Bungo. "I don't fancy you walking down the Hill in this icy weather, but Bilbo and I will come and help you along! I am sure that Fosco would appreciate my presence at a time like this, and Bilbo can perhaps, help keep the little ones occupied and out of the way!"

Posey waited as the family got ready, and then Belladonna returned to the kitchen and took out a basket. She loaded it with jars of soup, a loaf of bread that had been planned for their luncheon, and a few other items.

"What are you doing, Bella?" Bungo asked.

"We are likely to be there most of the day, dear. And I don't like to think we would be a strain on their larder; they have little ones to feed, after all."

Soon they were all bundled up. Posey offered to carry the basket, so that Bungo and Bilbo could walk on either side of Belladonna. They went out the kitchen door, for the front walk was treacherously icy, and began the walk down the hill. Bilbo had walked down the Hill all his life. When his grandparents had still lived at Greenbriars, he had gone down there several times a week to visit them; this past summer he'd been down there almost every day as the _smial_ was being worked on. Summer seemed so long ago now. Just then he almost stumbled as he put a foot wrong into a drift that was deeper than it looked. He pulled his mother a little off balance as well, and that more than anything, brought him out of his thoughts.

"Bilbo!" his father said sharply, "Take care!"

"I'm sorry, Papa!" He paid much more attention to his footing. He would never forgive himself if he caused his mother to fall!

They walked along the verge, rather than in the road, for the road was a mess of ice and mud. It took them twice as long as usual, and Bilbo was ever so glad to see the _smial_ come into view. Bungo took the basket from Posey, and turned to knock on the door.

Fosco had been anxiously watching for them, and they were barely upon the step before he opened the door. "Mrs. Twofoot is with her, Belladonna." Bella and Posey went straight back. Posey was also her mother's apprentice.

Bungo and Bilbo stood there looking awkwardly at Fosco. Then Bungo said, "We brought a few things..."

"Yes, yes, of course, thank you," Fosco was nearly babbling. "We'll take them to the kitchen..."

Fosco led the way as though Bungo and Bilbo did not know perfectly well where the kitchen was. Bilbo was surprised to see Dora and Drogo in their places at the kitchen table. Drogo had an obviously empty bowl, but he was running his finger around it, and then licking it and then looking at it sadly. Dora had her hands folded on the table, and her eyes were anxious.

She looked up as they came in. "We stayed right here, Papa, just like you said. We didn't move or anything. Drogo was good, too."

"Oh, Dora!" Her father looked stricken, and Bilbo suddenly realised that Cousin Fosco had forgotten that he'd told Dora and Drogo to stay in the kitchen.

Drogo put the bowl down, and his face lit up. "Bilbo!"

"Hullo, Drogo," Bilbo replied, ruffling the _faunt's_ hair. He looked over at Fosco. "Why don't I take Dora and Drogo to their room for a while, Cousin Fosco?"

Fosco looked very relieved, and Bungo nodded proudly at his son. Bilbo took the two children by the hand and led them back to the nursery.

"What shall we play?" Bilbo asked. "Do you want to play farm, Drogo?"

The little one shook his head.

"Why don't I read you a story, then?"

"Will you hold me, Bilbo?"

"Yes, Drogo. Dora, why don't you pick out the story book?"

She dipped her head and bit her lip. "You didn't say 'please', Cousin Bilbo."

Bilbo did not know whether to laugh or be annoyed, but she looked so serious. So he said "So I didn't! Please, Dora, would you pick out a story book?"

She nodded, and went over to the shelf. The story was about a little lamb that got lost from its flock, and how all the other sheep looked for it. Bilbo sat in the rocking chair by the nursery hearth with Drogo on his lap and Dora sitting on a cushion at his feet.

_"Once there was a Little White Lamb who loved to run and play in the meadow with the other sheep. She liked to eat the daisies and the clover in the meadow, and to drink from the clear stream that ran down from the hills. _

_Most of the time she minded her Mama Sheep and Shepherd and Dog, and stayed with the flock. But one day she saw something fluttering in the air, and flying from flower to flower. It was a big yellow butterfly, and she had never seen one before. So curious was she about this strange creature that she tried to follow it- and follow it she did, down the hill and across the stream she ran. But she did not understand that the butterfly could go where she did not, and she suddenly found herself tumbling over a ledge into a little gully... _

* * *

_...Dog barked and barked and barked, and Mama Sheep bawled and bawled. Soon Shepherd came running. He saw the Little White Lamb in the gully, and he laid down upon the ledge and used his crook to bring her up. She was so happy to see her Mama Sheep, and her mother was happy to have her back. All the other sheep were glad as well. Dog rounded them up, and Shepherd led them all towards home."_

Bilbo started to close the book, but Drogo put out a chubby little finger, onto the picture of the happy sheep.

"I want Mama."

"I know you do, Drogo, but she can't see you right now. She is very busy."

The _faunt_ looked up at him, and then burst into tears, clinging to Bilbo and weeping into his shirt. Bilbo held him close and patted his back and made soothing noises and wished there was a grown-up nearby to tell him what to do. But Papa was busy trying to make Cousin Fosco feel better, and Mama was in with Cousin Ruby and Mrs. Twofoot. Dora stood by and gazed at him solemnly. There were tears in her eyes as well, but she was blinking them away and trying to be a "big lass" as her father had told her.

Perhaps if she had something to do it would make her feel better.

"Dora, could you fetch me a wet flannel to wash Drogo's face?"

She nodded. Her brown eyes were huge in her pale face, and Bilbo felt his heart wrench as he realised how thin she was. She went out of the room for a few minutes, and Bilbo shifted Drogo around and began to rock back and forth, the way he remembered his own mother doing for him when he was little and upset. Soon Dora came back and offered Bilbo the damp flannel, and Bilbo began to wash the little tear-stained face. "Thank you, Dora," he said.

"You're welcome, Cousin Bilbo." She continued to stand there and just stare at him and Drogo.

Bilbo was glad that the doors of Greenbriar were nice thick ones, for though he wished he knew what was happening, he was just as glad as not that he couldn't really hear what was going on. He wondered how much longer it would continue, and what they would do with the children if anything bad happened.

Just then, to his immense relief, the nursery door opened, and his mother came in- and she was smiling.

"Dora, Drogo?" said Belladonna gently. "You have a new baby brother!"

"Can we see him? Is Mama all right?" asked Dora.

"Your mother is asleep. She was very tired, for it is hard work to bring a baby into the world. And so is your new brother. Little Dudo also had to work hard to be born. You must let them rest. Why don't we all go into the kitchen and have some tea."

"But we can't have tea, Aunt Bella!" exclaimed Dora. "Papa says we must make the food last."

"This is a special day, dear," Belladonna replied. "I am sure that your Papa won't mind. He will probably join us and have a little, too!"

Belladonna made some tea, and heated up some of the soup that she'd brought. Bilbo looked at Dora and Drogo's thin and pinched faces, pale from being cooped up inside, and their eyes too large.

He looked up at his mother. "I'll just have a little tea, Mama. I am more thirsty than hungry."

Belladonna's eyes sparked with tears, but also pride. "I see, Bilbo-lad. Very well."

It truly was a long day. After they had eaten, Bilbo went back to the nursery with the children, and settled between them on the large bed, to encourage them to nap. Soon they all three fell into an exhausted sleep.

It was quite late in the day when Belladonna went in to wake them up. Fosco took the two little ones to see their mother and meet their new brother, and Bungo, Belladonna and Bilbo saw themselves out.

The walk up the Hill was not so treacherous as the walk down had been. They stopped briefly, halfway up, and Bilbo looked out over Hobbiton. The Water was black and still, and the trees were black and bare against the white of the snow. Save for the smoke here and there coming through the chimney pots, one could scarcely see any of the _smials_ and cots of the village.

Bungo asked his wife: "How is Cousin Ruby? And the baby?"

Belladonna looked solemn, and did not meet his eyes. "Ruby's not well; she didn't eat enough the last few weeks. She's weak, and so is little Dudo. I think they will both live, and so does Mrs. Twofoot, but it is going to be difficult for both of them."

"Dudo?" asked Bilbo. "Is that his name?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad he will live. I hope that things will get better soon." He sighed. "It will be Yule soon. Things _have_ to get better for Yule!"

He did not see the sad look his parents exchanged behind his back.


	12. The World Was Grey

(A/N: At 21, Bilbo is at about the same maturity as a 13 to 14 year old human; also, in "my" version of the Shire, hobbits- especially young ones, wear leggings similar to modern leg warmers in the winter.)

**Chapter 12: The World Was Grey **

_12 Foreyule, S.R. 1311 _

Thwack!

The log split neatly in two, and Bilbo set up another one. He'd offered to split firewood this morning while his parents went down to Greenbriars to check on Cousin Ruby and the new baby. He knew his mother was very worried by how weak they both still were, though she said thankfully they were getting no worse.

Truthfully Bilbo had wanted to do this. He was feeling so very weary of being kept indoors, and the exercise felt good.

It had snowed again in the night, just enough to put a smooth white layer atop the slushy mess from a few days before. The sky was clear for a change- the blue was a welcome relief from the grey gloom of the past few weeks.

Thwack!

He hit the log as hard as he could. This one did not split quite so neatly as the last, but it was acceptable. He chucked the two pieces into his growing pile and set up another. He wanted to have it done by luncheon when his parents got home.

Thwack!

He had not really wished to go down this morning. It was so hard to look at poor little Dora and Drogo, who were so hungry. He was hungry, too, but they were so young. He grabbed another piece of wood.

Thwack!

It wasn't fair! It just wasn't _fair_!

Thwack!

The angrier he got, the faster the wood split. Finally, out of breath, he reached for another piece, and there wasn't one. He had split all that his father had told him to do.

He began to gather it up and stack it near the kitchen door, so that it would be handy to bring in. He was no longer angry. He just felt drained and hungry. He looked at the sky, and realised his parents would soon be home. He finished stacking the wood neatly, and then went indoors, where he divested himself of his hat, his scarf, his coat, his jacket and his leggings. Then he began to prepare lunch so that his parents wouldn't have to when they got home. Truthfully there wasn't a lot to do: heat up the soup left from supper the night before, make a few plain ash cakes on the hearth, and put the teakettle on to boil.

Soon enough he heard the door open and his parents came into the kitchen.

"Oh, thank you, son!" his mother said proudly. "I am so glad you got lunch ready!" She gave him a hug and a kiss on top of his head.

His father glanced out the kitchen door briefly. "You did a good job on the woodpile, too, Bilbo!"

Bilbo flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Papa!"

The little family sat round the kitchen table with their meagre (by hobbit standards) meal.

"I am glad you didn't come with us today, Bilbo. Dora and Drogo are both down with the sniffles." said Belladonna. "Mrs. Twofoot fears it may be catarrh. She isn't sure, and Mistress Rose can't get up to Greenbriars- she can't even get into town." Mistress Rose Cotman was the Hobbiton healer, but she and her husband lived at the edge of town, and their _smial _was snowed in.

"I am going to try and get a group of hobbits together to dig her out. It's not a good thing for our healer to be trapped and unable to see her patients," said Bungo. "But in the meantime, I hope that it is not catarrh and does not spread. That's the last thing we need."

"Well, I won't have Bilbo exposed to it, at any rate." Belladonna stated firmly.

Talk turned to other matters. Little Dudo seemed to be strengthening a little at last, and Cousin Ruby had also begun to rally. No snow today was also a hopeful sign...

_17 Foreyule, S.R. 1311 _

The sunny days had not lasted. Yesterday there had been another snowfall, this one deep enough to snow them in at the front door, though the wind had kept it from piling up at the kitchen door. Bag End seemed quieter than it ever had before, all muffled and silent. The snow outside Bilbo's window came nearly to the top. It was an eerie feeling.

In fact, he could not even hear his parents stirring, or smell the porridge cooking. Was it too early? Or was it too late? He could not tell by the light, nor even by his stomach, for he'd begun to grow used to the feeling of hunger all the time. Perhaps it was much earlier than he thought, yet this time of year the Sun rose late. He rose from his bed and put on his dressing gown, and went out into the passage, where he stopped in front of his parents' door.

He had just started to raise his hand to knock when the door opened. His father stood there in his nightshirt looking weary and haggard, holding an empty teacup. Then there was a sneeze from the bed, where his mother lay, a huddled lump of blankets and no part of her visible.

Bilbo took the teacup from his father and sniffed it. "Willow-bark? Is she all right?"

"She has been sneezing and feverish most of the night, son. I think she may have caught Dora and Drogo's sniffles." Bungo took his own dressing gown down from the peg on the back of the door and wrapped it around himself. "You and I will let her rest today, and have breakfast together."

Bilbo followed his father back down the passage reluctantly. He wanted nothing more than to fly to his mother and be sure she was all right. But his father was right- she needed her rest.

Bilbo and Bungo each had a small bowl of porridge and some water for breakfast. Afterwards, Bungo made a tray with a cup of real tea and a piece of toast, and took it to Belladonna. Bilbo did the washing up, such as it was, from breakfast and then went to get himself dressed.

"It's a good thing you stacked the woodpile well, son," Bungo said. "We shan't be going far for the next few days. If it snows more we'll do well to get out the back door. I am going to bring the shovel in from the garden shed and put it in the kitchen. It won't do us much good if we can't get to it in order to use it."

Bilbo nodded, and watched his father bundle up and go carefully out the back door. He poked his head out, and there was the woodpile near to hand. He put his own coat, scarf and hat on, and stepped out into bitter cold. It took several trips, as he could not carry much at one time, but he filled the woodbox in the kitchen and the basket by the hearth in the parlour, and he brought in another couple of armloads so that his father could put them in the bedroom to keep the fire in their room going. They'd been forgoing such fires, but his mother would need the warmth if she were sick!

The day passed slowly. The hole was neat as a pin already, and there was not much to do. Bungo checked on Belladonna frequently, but refused to allow Bilbo to do so- "There is no point in you getting a cold as well, son," he said.

Lunch consisted of cheese sandwiches. They were already skipping elevenses and tea now. Bilbo made supper: potato soup. There was no milk or butter, but there were plenty of onions and dried herbs, and it seemed a nice change from the vegetable soup they had been having. As a treat, Bungo brought out two of the apples from the cold cellar and baked them in the embers. He and Bilbo divided one, and he took the other to Bella.

Bilbo went back into the parlour where he and his father had been playing draughts much of the afternoon, and sat down with a book. It had always been one of his favorites, an account of one of the Brandybucks' travels in Bree, but it could not hold his interest at all.

After a while his father came back. "I'm sorry, son, but I am very tired and have a headache. I'm going to bed- don't stay up too late, and remember to bank the fire."

"Yes, Papa."

"Good-night, son," said Bungo. And then he sneezed.

"Good-night, Papa," said Bilbo, and he felt a shiver of fear. What would he do if both of his parents fell ill?

_22 Foreyule, S.R. 1311_

Bilbo had never been so tired in his life. The first few days of his parents' illness he had brought endless cups of tea and tumblers of water and mugs of broth to them; as for himself, he had made a pot of pease porridge, and that had served him for every meal until this morning. He ate stale bread for breakfast, and decided that he'd make another pot of potato soup for his supper and his parents'.

Between times, he dozed fitfully in the chair beside their bed, or made occasional trips to the woodpile by the back door. They were running short of wood there, and he knew that perhaps in another day he'd have to shovel his way out to the big woodpile and fetch more. He wasn't sure he'd be strong enough to split so much as he had before- he was so weary!

His mother suddenly was taken with a fit of coughing; it was long and hard and frightened Bilbo very much. She sat up, coughing and struggling to catch her breath. Bilbo turned her pillow, and helped her to settle back against it. She was so feverish! He went to the washstand and wrung out another flannel in cold water to place upon her brow. She turned to Bilbo and held out a shaking hand to him. "I'm so sorry, son...so sorry..."

Bilbo pressed a kiss on the hand and tucked it back under the covers. "It's all right, Mama, it will be all right." And he fought back tears and hoped as hard as he could hope that he was not telling a lie.

Then his father began to cough. His coughing, if anything was harder and worse than that of his mother. Bungo was sweating and shivering and trying to throw off the covers. He did not even seem to know Bilbo, and was muttering under his breath. Finally Bilbo got him settled as well, and his father passed into a fitful and restless sleep. Once he was sure that both of them were finally sleeping soundly, he went to fetch more water. Thank goodness, he thought, that Bag End was a modern _smial_ and had a pump in the kitchen, one which had so far not frozen up.

What was he going to do? Bilbo wondered. The supply of willow-bark powder was dwindling. The pile of soiled linens and handkerchiefs was growing. There was less food. There was more snow. He had not seen anyone but his parents for at least two weeks. He sometimes wondered if they were the last people in the Shire. He tried very hard to shut off the horrid and unthinkable thought that his parents might not survive their illness. What would he do? _No!_ No, he could not, would not think about that.

Yule was supposed to be coming, but Bilbo supposed they would not have any Yule this year. This year could not turn soon enough for him!

He trudged back to the bedroom with a pail of water, and filled the pitcher by the bed and the ewer on the washstand, and put the remaining half-a-pail next to the hearth. Then he went back to the kitchen to fetch more wood.

Exhausted, he fell back into the armchair by the bed, and tried to get some sleep. He needed to sleep so badly.

Suddenly he heard the last thing he expected to hear: a pounding at the front door of Bag End!


	13. Over Snow by Winter Sown

****(A/N: At 21 years old, Bilbo is about the same maturity as a human adolescent of 13-14 years old.)

**Chapter 13: Over Snow by Winter Sown**

_22 Foreyule, S.R. 1311_

Bilbo did not care who it was, so long as it was an adult. He needed help so badly. He raced down the passage to the front hall and flung open the door.

It was Tam Goodchild the gardener. Bilbo flung himself at the hobbit. "Oh! Oh, Master Tam, I am so _glad_ to see you!"

The gardener held him back at arm's length and looked at the tween. "Master Bilbo, whatever is wrong? Where's the Squire?"

Bilbo made an effort to get hold of himself, and took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. "Papa is ill, and so is Mama. They are dreadfully ill, Master Tam, and I don't know what to do."

"Well, I have to say as I was worrited. We all know it's not like the Squire not to be around in times of trouble. What's wrong with 'em, Master Bilbo?"

"They both began sneezing and then coughing and running a fever a few days ago. Mama had been down to Greenbriars, and she said that Dora and Drogo had the sniffles and that they feared it might be catarrh."

Tam nodded. "Mistress Rose is still holed up, but her 'prentice Sage Rumble was visiting her family during the snowfall. It's catarrh, and there are a lot of hobbits here in town down with it. I was up here to shovel the walk down to the lane, for I feared that you were all snowed in up here. From the looks of it, I weren't far wrong."

"We are more or less clear at the back, Master Tam," said Bilbo. "I've been able to get to the woodpile and back to the house, but we've been snowed in at the front for several days. I only had to dig a little at the back- Papa remembered to bring the shovel in the house before he got sick."

"Mr. Bungo is a right clever hobbit, and long-sighted as well. D' you want me to look in on your folks now?"

"If you please, Master Tam." Bilbo said anxiously.

The gardener wiped his feet well on the mat, and followed Bilbo back to the Master's room. Bilbo opened the door cautiously. His mother was half-sitting against the pillows, her arm across her face, but she was not asleep. Bungo was asleep, however.

"Mama, Master Tam is here."

"Oh, thank goodness!" she whispered hoarsely. She began to cough again, and Bilbo rushed over to pour her a tumbler of water. After a few sips, she took a breath, and Bilbo was alarmed to hear her wheezing. "Has the snow cleared?"

"No, Mistress; but some o' us managed to clear part o' the lane and a few o' the paths. Me nephew from Bywater was able to get in wi' a sledge and a few supplies. Mistress Rose is still snowed in; we're a-going to try to get her clear tomorrow. Miss Sage is clear- she's a-staying down at Number 5 Bagshot Row with her cousins."

Bungo began to cough. If anything, his coughing and wheezing sounded worse than Belladonna. Bilbo went around to him with another tumbler of water, and was alarmed at how feverish his father's brow was. Bungo moaned and began coughing again.

"Mama," he said seriously, "I am going down to Number 5, and see about fetching Miss Sage up here." Miss Sage wasn't yet a healer, yet she was nearing the end of her apprenticeship, and seemed a very practical and competent sort.

" 'Tis a good idea, Master Bilbo," said Tam with approval. "Mistress, I'll finish clearing the walk and also in the back, and see to splitting some more wood and a-bringing it up. Master Bilbo tells me that you are almost out."

"Thank you, Tam," she said. She turned to Bilbo. "Be careful, son, and bundle up well- the last thing we need is for you to get sick as well."

Once more Bilbo struggled into leggings, jacket, coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and this time, he added his cloak.

The cold nearly took his breath away. At least the front walk was clear. The lane, as Tam had said, had been partly cleared. Bagshot Row was down the Hill in the other direction from Greenbriars. Bilbo began to walk down that way, but as he went, it began to snow again, at first a few flurries, but then quickly it began to swirl around him enough to slow his pace and make it hard for him to see. However, it was not far to Number 5, and even in the swirling snow its bright red door was easy to spot. He pounded on the door, and soon it was opened by little Barty Rumble, whose eyes went wide. "Master Bilbo!" he gasped.

"Barty, is your cousin Sage here?"

The child nodded, eyes wide. Then he turned and in a bellow that belied his small size yelled: "SAGE!"

Sage and Mrs. Rumble came from the kitchen. "What on earth are you a-hollering at, Hobart Rumble?" asked his mother sternly, and then her own eyes went wide at the sight of Bilbo standing there, the door still wide open.

"Oh, Master Bilbo! Do come in! Barty, close the door, you're letting in all the snow!"

Bilbo stepped into the _smial_ and it was with no small relief that he left the snow behind as Barty shut the door. "Miss Sage, my parents are both very ill. When Master Tam told me that you were here, I thought I would see if you could come down and take a look at them. I know Mistress Rose is still snowed in, you see, and well- I'm dreadfully worried about them. I think it may be catarrh. Before she got ill, Mama said that it was going around."

Sage nodded. "It wouldn't surprise me, Master Bilbo, not at all. It _has_ been going around. That's part o' why I'm here. I come to see Tam's children who was taken with it before the last big snow hit; as they was in Number 3, it seemed only right that I come next door to stay with kin. They are all better now, though."

That brought Bilbo up short. "It's snowing again! Perhaps we won't be able to get back up to Bag End!"

Barty ran up to the window. "It's almost stopped again, Master Bilbo."

"I think we can make it, Master Bilbo," Sage said. "Let me get my satchel with what I'll need, and bundle up. We'll head up the Hill right away."

It did not take them long, and soon Bilbo found himself back in the dwindling snowflakes, Miss Sage at his side. All the progress made on the road had been erased by the snow. The new layer of snow was not deep, but it was enough to hide the road once more, as well as any small potholes and icy patches. They did not speak as they needed to be careful of placing each step. The snow had stopped by the time the gate to Bag End's front path came in view.

Bilbo pushed open the door, and they entered the hall, along with a few stray snowflakes. He took Miss Sage's cloak, and hung it on one of the pegs by the door, before he began taking off his own cloak and coat. They wiped their feet upon the mat, and then Bilbo led her back to his parents' room.

Miss Sage looked about with interest. She had never been inside Bag End before, and she had often heard what a splendid hole it was. It certainly seemed so to her now, but she had little time to appreciate it as Bilbo opened the door to the room and led her to her patients.

Both appeared to be sleeping, and rather than wake them right away, she drew off the pendulum she wore about her neck. Her pendulum was a disk carved with a design of knots and made of bone. It was pierced at the top and strung upon a cord of silk. Her father had carved it for her when he learned she was to become an apprentice healer, and whenever she used it, she was reminded of her parents' pride in her.

She began with Mistress Belladonna. Taking a calming breath to center herself as she had been taught, she dangled the pendulum above Mistress Belladonna, beginning with her feet, and moving up her body slowly and methodically. Sage observed the patterns the pendulum made, swinging back and forth sometimes, sometimes in a circular motion- and sometimes, especially as Sage reached the chest and lung area, erratically. She frowned.

Then she walked around the bed, and began to repeat the process on the Master. She was alarmed to realise that the erratic swinging was even more pronounced in his case. Before she quite finished, he suddenly was wracked with a bout of coughing. He sat up abruptly. The cough sounded wet, and he was wheezing mightily as he tried to draw in his breath between coughs. He blinked, and looked blearily at her through watery red eyes. "Do I know you?" he rasped.

Bilbo, who had been standing right behind her, said "It's Miss Sage Rumble, Mistress Rose's apprentice, Papa."

"At your service, Mr. Baggins." She dropped the pendulum cord back around her neck and drew out her listening tube. "Can you lean forward a little, sir?" she asked.

Bungo nodded, then closed his eyes briefly. "Dizzy," he whispered. He leaned forward, and Sage put the wide end of the tube against his back, and her ear to the other end.

She listened for a few seconds, then put her hand to his head. He was slightly feverish. "Master Bilbo, you told me that you gave your parents willow-bark tea. When did you do that last?"

"About four hours ago, Miss Sage. Was that the right thing to do? I've been giving them as much as I can."

"Oh, yes, Master Bilbo, willow-bark is good for fever. But it's probably about worn off now. I think his fever's going up again."

Belladonna had wakened now, and Miss Sage introduced herself and went back to the other side to examine her more closely as well.

She stood back and looked at both of her patients, who were gazing up at her with the exhausted and unquestioning gaze of the truly sick. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a cloth bag. "Master Bilbo, this is willow-bark with a few other herbs mixed in that will be good for your parents. You take it and go fix them up some tea with this. Use about the same amount as you would with just the willow-bark. Add a little honey, too, if you still have any."

Relieved at having something to do, Bilbo went into the kitchen to prepare it. As soon as he left, she looked at Bungo and Belladonna seriously. "Mr. and Mrs. Baggins, I think you know you have had catarrh; but it's only become worse. You've both developed the lung sickness. Both of you are very ill, and I think you are worse off than the young master can handle."

Belladonna burst into tears. "He's taken such good care of us, Miss Sage; he's a good son."

Bungo somehow mustered up the strength to put an arm around his wife. "He is. But Miss Sage is right. Yet I do not know what we can do about it in this dreadful weather. I do not know who we could find that could come. I am sure many have this illness in their own holes."

"Could Mr. Fosco help out?"

Belladonna shook her head sadly. "Not with the young ones depending on him. I am sure that Ruby is not well enough yet to keep the children alone."

Just then Bilbo came back in with the tea tray. Miss Sage took it from him and placed it on the table by the bed and passed the cups to his parents.

"Papa, Tam chopped us some more wood, and he wants to know what else he can do to help? He came into the kitchen while I was in there."

Bungo blinked. His mind was foggy, and he really did not know what to answer. Sage could tell by his blank expression. "I'll have a word with him, Master Bilbo. I know of a few useful things he can do. You sit here until I come back and make sure they drink all their tea!" She gave him a reassuring smile, not missing the pale drawn face, or the dark circles under his eyes.

She strode into the kitchen, wishing mightily that her Mistress was available right now. Outwardly she was all confidence, but inwardly she was very worried. The Bagginses were very ill indeed, especialy Mr. Baggins. If they should get worse, if the worst should happen, poor little Master Bilbo should not be alone. She so wished she could consult her Mistress right now- though she'd been told she was nearly finished with her apprenticeship, she did not feel as confident as she would if she were a full Healer. She saw Tam sitting at the table nursing his own cup of tea.

"Tam," she said without preamble, "could Missus Twofoot come up and watch with Master Bilbo for a few days?" Ivy Twofoot was Tam's sister.

He shook his head. "I reckon not, Sage. She just got over her own bout wi' the catarrh, and now Jack and Posey are down with it."

"Is the Post running yet?"

"I saw t' Postmaster while we was a-working on the road. He said barring a bad snowfall tonight, he's going to try to get a rider through to the Thain tomorrow."

Sage thought rapidly. "I'll get Master Bilbo to write a letter then, maybe we'll get some help from his Tookish relations if the weather don't worsen. And nothing for it, I'll stay here as much as I can with Master Bilbo to watch over the Squire and the Mistress. You tell my auntie what's going on, have her send me over my things. And ask about the village, see if any of the goodwives can come up and spell me ever once in a while. Sick as his mum and da are, I don't want Master Bilbo alone with them."

Tam's eyes widened as her meaning became clear.

She returned to the sick room. Bilbo had placed the empty teacups on the tray, and watched anxiously as his parents once more fell asleep, this time helped by the extra herbs that Sage had put in the tea.

"Master Bilbo, I'm going to stay for a while."

The relief on his face was palpable; if he'd had the energy, he'd have shouted out his thanks. As it was he simply nodded gratefully.

"I want you to go to bed, Master Bilbo. I'll spell you in here. But you need some real rest. And Mag tells me the Postmaster plans to try sending out a rider tomorrow to Tuckborough. When you wake up, you write a letter to your grandfather and tell him about your folks being so sick. It may take a few days, but you know the Old Took will see that things are taken care of!"

Bilbo went off to his room, never so glad in his life to shed his clothes and slip into his nightshirt, and to slide between the sheets of his bed.


	14. Tidings: An Interlude

(A/N: There is a brief reference to my story "Trotter", found elsewhere on this site.)

**Chapter 14: Tidings: An Interlude**

_24 Foreyule, S.R. 1311_

Gandalf looked with a sense of urgent foreboding at the frozen ford. He could recall only too well the last time the Brandywine had been iced over, and this was not a good sign.

Carefully he stepped onto the ice and walked out to the middle. It was solid, as solid as could be. He returned and led the two horses across- the one he was riding and the one carrying vital supplies, provided for him by Galadriel and her healers; then, instead of waiting and resting as he had thought he might, he set off at as goodly a pace as possible in the snow. The minute he had entered the Shire he had felt more urgency than ever. He needed to get to Tuckborough and the Great Smials as soon as he could. There was great trouble in the Shire, and they needed what he had.

He had been abiding in Lothlórien with Galadriel and Celeborn when the rumours of trouble in Eriador came to them. The first concerns of his hosts had been Imladris, of course, but the Lady had suffered him a glimpse of her mirror.

_There was a brief glimpse of Two Rivers, the townspeople huddled in a large room. He saw Arador and Arathorn tending the ill…and there was Hildifons in the same room, holding a baby half his own size, trying to feed her…there were the walls of Bree, snow halfway up, the gate closed fast…there was the Shire, as covered in snow as it had been on his first journey there… there was a young hobbit curled up on a bed, weeping bitterly… he saw himself briefly approaching the Great Smials on horseback…and there was Elrond in his stillroom, seemingly giving urgent instructions to someone—he glanced up briefly, puzzled, as though aware of the unseen eyes upon him…and there he was again, mounted, his sons and many of his household behind him, riding across the Ford of the Bruinen… there were wolf prints in the snow…there was a dark cavern filled with orcs, quarreling over the places nearest a fire… there was the face of his friend Gerontius, twisted with anguish…_

It had been enough to understand that while succour would be coming to the Dúnedain and the Angle, the Shire was in dire peril. Celeborn had provided the horses, and Elves to accompany him as far as West of the mountains. It had been a journey slowed by necessity and the winter that was already pouring its fury on the hapless North and making its way South, but once he had the mountains at his back, he had travelled more swiftly. Now he was in the Shire, and he feared he was too late; he rode as quickly as he could without harming the horses.

And as he rode, he thought he heard the faint sound of horns behind him...

* * *

Isengrim looked at the letter that had arrived for his father. The post-rider from Hobbiton had been the first one to come in for weeks from anywhere in the Shire. The handwriting was clearly that of a young hobbit; it was in fact, from his nephew, Bilbo. Should he read it before giving it to his father? Gerontius had taken no interest in anything in three days- ever since his beloved Adamanta had breathed her last. Isengrim forced back the choking sob that threatened to overwhelm him; until his father was able to think clearly once more, he was in charge, and he could not afford to grieve for his mother yet. His time would come.

Perhaps there would be something in the letter that would arouse his father from his apathy. He ran his finger under the seal and opened the letter.

_"22 Foreyule, S.R. 1311  
Bag End  
Hobbiton_

Dear Grandfather,

I am writing this letter to you because Mama and Papa are both very sick, and Miss Sage the healer's apprentice said you needed to know about it. They had catarrh and then the lung sickness and they are still very, very sick.

I am so worried about them, Grandfather. I do not know what to do. Can you help us?

I hope that things are better at the Great Smials than they are here in Hobbiton.

Your loving grandson,  
Bilbo"

His heart dropped to his toes. Bella! His beloved little sister and her jolly Baggins husband were laid low; yet what help was there for them in Hobbiton when they were so beset here? It was almost more than he could bear. And poor young Bilbo, to have such a burden on his shoulders at his tender age!

Suddenly, there was a rapping at his door. "Mr. Isengrim!"

"What is it?" he asked wearily. Doubtless more bad news, he was sure.

"Mr. Isengrim! That Gandalf is here! He's here!"

And for the first time in days hope dared to enter Isengrim's heart.

* * *

Gerontius paid no heed to the persistent knocking at the door of his study. Whoever it was would go away eventually- unless it was his daughter-in-law Rosa trying to make him eat again. When the door opened anyway, he thought perhaps it was her, but then...

"Oh, my old friend! I am so sorry I could not come sooner!"

The Old Took's head whipped round at the sound of his best friend's voice. "Gandalf?" he stood shakily, and stared in disbelief, for Gandalf almost always came in the summer. What was he doing here now?

In three swift strides, the wizard had crossed the room. He held out his arms, and Gerontius fell into them weeping bitterly, pouring all his grief out onto the heart strong enough to bear it. He did not resist when Gandalf sat down in the chair reserved for him, cradling Gerontius like a child.

"Weep, my old friend, for your tears will help to heal your heart."

And weep Gerontius did, until he fell asleep with weariness. But Gandalf simply held him for hours. Time enough when his friend wakened refreshed, to give him the other news, the news that Isengrim had told him of on his arrival.

He had brought the Elvish medicine too late for sweet Adamanta, but not, he hoped, to help the many others who needed it.

* * *

"FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE! AWAKE! FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE! AWAKE!"

The Horncall blasted across Buckland, picked up by one horn only to be echoed by another, the horncall to action that had not been heard in Buckland since the Old Forest had threatened the hedge so long ago!

Brandybucks came boiling out of Brandy Hall into the frosty air, Gorbadoc at their head. What could the danger be? It was winter. The wild trees of the Old Forest should be deep in slumber.

Then, faintly at first, but more gradually sounding louder between the blasts of the horns, they heard it: not the howling of the wind.

Wolves. Wolves in Buckland, and with the Brandywine frozen over, wolves headed for the heart of the Shire...


	15. A Gleam of Good Hope

**Chapter 15: A Gleam of Good Hope**

_First Yule, S.R. 1311_

Bilbo wakened, heart pounding, from dark dreams of wandering through strange black tunnels, knowing something horrid and fearsome was pursuing him. A sound of hissing at his heels had brought him to a pitch of terror. He sat up and breathed hard. He'd been so tired when he finally went to bed the night before, it was no wonder he had bad dreams.

He wondered how his parents were. Good as her word, Miss Sage had been staying with them, spelling him, for the last few days. Mistress Rose had been dug out, only for the hobbits who freed her to discover that she was also down with the catarrh, though fortunately not a serious case; still she had sent word for her apprentice to stay put. And some of the goodwives from the village had come by for a couple of hours at a time to give both of them rest- Aunt Robinia Bunce (though she was only a courtesy aunt and not kin) had been twice, Cousin Lily had been once, and so had Mrs. Twofoot. And the day before, even Cousin Ruby had been there briefly. She'd looked dreadful, not like she should be out and about at all in this horrid winter, but she had come anyway. Somehow she seemed to feel it was her fault that his parents were ill, perhaps because they probably had caught the catarrh from Dora and Drogo. She did not stay long- Miss Sage made her go away again.

He got up and washed quickly in the icy water in his basin, and dressed, and padded across the passage to check on his parents.

Miss Sage welcomed him in, and he saw that they were both still sleeping. Tears filled his eyes as he saw how pale and thin their faces were.

"Go and have some breakfast, Bilbo. Blossom Twofoot came by earlier with a pan of scones; they may still be warm- she left the pan by the kitchen hearth. After you eat, you can spell me for a while."

Bilbo found the scones were, indeed, still warm. He made himself a cup of tea, and decided it would not be too greedy to eat two of them. He was regretfully finishing up the second one when there came a sudden knocking at the front door. Who'd be here this early? he wondered. Perhaps one of his mother's friends had managed to come to help out.

It sounded like several someones on the front step, he thought. He pulled open the door and gave an exclamation of joyful surprise. "Uncle 'Gar! Uncle Isumbras!" He fell into his Uncle Isengar's embrace, "Oh, Uncle 'Gar!" He drew back to see that his Aunt Citrine, Uncle 'Gar's wife, standing behind him, and beyond that a couple of hobbits that looked only vaguely familiar. Then he gazed in astonishment at the sight of many other hobbits in the lane, mounted on ponies whose breath steamed in the frosty air. Was that Chop's bright sorrel pony? If he was here why had he not come to the door? But he could not be sure, the hobbits were so bundled up. There was also a sledge in the lane as well, pulled up right by the gate.

"I'm sorry! Come in out of the cold!" He stood back, and then his face flushed with embarassment. "I could make some tea, but I don't have enough scones to go around..." It was a dreadful breach of the hospitality his parents had always taught him, and he was sure they would be mortified if they knew.

Uncle Isumbras shook his head. "Don't worry about that Bilbo-lad! We've brought some food and things with us. Your Aunt Citrine has some special medicine, too, which may help your parents. Why don't you take her back there now? Then come back, for Isengar and I need to talk to you." Aunt Citrine was a healer in her own right, and Bilbo felt more relieved than he could say to have her there.

He entered his parents' room with Aunt Citrine on his heels. Miss Sage looked up in surprise at seeing a strange hobbitess there, but at the sight of Citrine's pendulum, she stood up.

"Miss Sage, this is my Aunt Citrine Took, wife to my Uncle Isengar. She's a healer and she brought some special medicine with her."

He left the two healers alone, and went back to find out what his uncles wanted to tell him.

When he followed them into the front parlour, Uncle Isengar closed the door. Uncle Isumbras gestured for him to sit, and then both of them sat down across from him on the settee. Uncle Isumbras leaned forward.

"Bilbo, I have some sad news for you..."

Bilbo felt his heart drop to his toes, and he held his breath.

"Your Grandmother Adamanta also had been ill of the catarrh and the lung sickness-" Uncle Isumbras stopped for a moment and took a deep breath of his own. "I am sorry, Bilbo, but she is gone." He stopped speaking and closed his eyes; he was very white.

Bilbo's jaw dropped, and he felt dizzy. Suddenly Uncle 'Gar was kneeling next to him, his hand on Bilbo's back. "We've other news, too lad, and not all of it bad."

Bilbo licked dry lips and looked up. For the life of him he could not speak, but he met his uncle's eyes.

"Gandalf came a few days ago. It was too late for mother, but he brought Elvish medicine with him- that's what your Aunt Citrine has with her, is some of that. It has helped many of those at the Great Smials who were still stricken. But we brought some of it here for your parents, and perhaps there is even enough for other hobbits here in Hobbiton who are still sick."

Bilbo felt a flicker of hope; Elvish medicine! And brought by Gandalf! Surely his own parents would be well in no time. But then he felt saddened about Grandmother Adamanta. "How- how is Grandfather?"

"He took it very hard, lad. But Gandalf has helped."

Bilbo nodded.

"That is not all, though." Isumbras looked less sad now, but very determined. "We also got news from Buckland; the Brandywine River has frozen over. At least one large pack of white wolves has crossed over it into the Shire. That is why we have so many hobbits with us. With the Thain so sunk in grief, Isengrim has had to call the Shire muster. In this weather that means only the Tookish archers, for we've not been able to get the word out, and of them, only those who were well enough to ride with us could respond. Of forty, eight are still sick, and three have close family who are still very ill. We will see what able-bodied hobbits can join us as we ride, but Isengar and I will be heading out first thing in the morning with them. Your Aunt Citrine will stay here, of course, and help you take care of your parents."

Isengar saw the growing alarm on Bilbo's face. "Once we've dealt with the wolves, we will be back, lad."

"Where- where are they?"

"Orgulas Brandybuck was one of those who brought us word. He said that the pack they know of crossed between the Bridge and Bucklebury. But where they went after that, we cannot say yet. We are turning East from here and hope to drive them back across the River North of the Bridge."

"Thank you for telling me about- about everything." Bilbo felt tears welling up. Grief for his grandmother and fear for his uncles were mingled with relief and hope for his parents. "I'm sorry," he said.

Isumbras looked at him. "Come here, Bilbo." He held out his arms, drew the tween into a brief embrace, and kissed his forehead. "We Tooks stick together, lad. We'll see you safe and your parents as well."

"Yes,sir."

"Now, I think the others may have been busy in the kitchen. We brought some provender with us. Do you smell sausage?"

Indeed, he did! He could not help a smile. How long had it been since he had sausage?

After he had eaten his fill for the first time in i_weeks_/i, his uncles insisted he go and rest again.

"We know you have had very little rest for a long time, Bilbo-lad," said Uncle 'Gar. "Don't worry; Citrine is with your parents, and Miss Sage is getting some rest as well."

Sated for a change, he slept far more soundly than he thought he would, right through until his aunt came to fetch him for luncheon. "Hello Bilbo," she said. "I scarcely had time to speak to you this morning. But I want to tell you how proud I am of how you took care of your mother and father- Miss Sage told me of all you did for them before she was able to get here. I am impressed."

Bilbo flushed with pleased embarrassment. He shrugged. "It's Mama and Papa," he said simply.

"I know, lad." She grinned. "Would you like to eat with them?"

He nodded, and followed her back to his parents' room. To his surprise, both of them were sitting up against their pillows, and had a little colour in their faces. His mother was leaning against his father's arm. Her eyes were red, for clearly she had been weeping. He supposed that Aunt Citrine had broken the news about Grandmother Adamanta. But oh! it was so good to see them awake and alert and not nearly so white as the pillows they leaned against!

He went over to his mother's side of the bed. "You look much better, Mama," he said. And then burst into tears. She pulled him close, and oh, how good it felt to feel her arms around him again, and his father's hand patting the back of his head.

But after the tears were dried and faces washed, Aunt Citrine and Uncle Isengar brought in the trays, and yes, it was soup again, but not the thin watery soup they'd been eating for weeks. No, this soup was thick with vegetables. He looked at his aunt and uncle in amazement, wondering how they'd pulled off such a miracle.

Aunt Citrine laughed at his expression. "They were dried vegetables, mostly, and some preserved in crocks."

Uncle 'Gar grinned. "Thank your great-great-grandfather, Thain Ferumbras II. Ever since the Long Winter, he saw to it that the storeholes of the Great Smials were kept full with seven years worth of provisions against the lean times. Of course the habit was kept up after him."

After a while they finished eating and sat for a while exchanging the news of all that had happened, both good and bad, since winter began. Bilbo was content to listen, curled up at the foot of his parents' bed, feeling safe for the first time in ages and ages, in spite of the sadness and the news of wolves.

_Second Yule, S.R. 1312_

The Year had turned. There had been no feasting, no gifts, this year. Having his parents on the road to recovery was gift enough for anyone, Bilbo thought. But after supper- more of that very delicious soup, and ashcakes and some stewed dried fruit for afters- Uncle Isengar had carried his mother, and Uncle Isumbras and Orgulas Brandybuck (who had been one of the hobbits that accompanied his uncles) escorted Bungo very carefully, they had all gone into the parlour. Miss Sage was with them, and Inigo Proudfoot (who was Orgulas' brother-in-law), and yes! Adalgrim as well-he had been with the muster, as he was an excellent archer. He had come up to the smials later in the day, though the rest of the mustered hobbits were staying at _The Ivy Bush_. Bilbo had never seen Chop looking so serious. His older cousin looked as though he too had been ill. But he'd smiled at Bilbo, and ruffled his curls.

Bungo asked Uncle 'Gar to go down to the wine cellar and fetch up a bottle of Old Winyards, and even Bilbo was allowed to have some. They toasted the Turning of the Year, and they sang the New Year in (though long before it properly was in at midnight, for his parents were still not well enough to stay up so late.)

He sat between them, and as they sang:

_Come now, good hobbits, be of much cheer,_  
_And let's raise a toast to the coming New Year~_  
_May each day dawn bright and fair,_  
_Free from want and free from care!_  
_May the year be short on sorrow,_  
_And long on joy with each new morrow!_  
_May the Shire know peace and plenty,_  
_That no larder may go empty!_  
_And blessed be the earth we till,_  
_That each belly may have its fill!_  
_May the ties of family, too,_  
_Be strengthened by hearts warm and true!_  
_May each hobbit have a hand to hold,_  
_And love for all, both young and old!_  
_Let the halls with laughter ring,_  
_As to the New Year we gladly sing!_

He had held tightly to each one's hand and closed his eyes and wished with all his heart that the song would come true this year.

But now he had risen while it was still dark, that he might farewell his uncles and cousin. How brave they were to ride out to face wolves!

The little troupe of Tookish archers had been supplemented by a few hobbits from Hobbiton who had or could borrow, ponies. He saw Mag Twofoot and Hom Greenhand and his own cousin Herry Bolger among them. They did not know archery, but like all hobbits, they were skilled with stones and slings.

He embraced his Uncle Isumbras briefly and his Uncle 'Gar he let go of reluctantly, and only because Aunt Citrine wished to say good-bye as well, and he then turned to Chop, who gave him a fierce hug before going to mount his pony. "Stay safe, Chop!" he said as he watched him leave.

Bilbo waved forlornly as the line of riders passed down the lane. They went around the curve at the bottom of the Hill and out of sight, but just as he was about to turn and go back into Bag End, he heard hoofbeats coming, and he was amazed to see a tall horse and a rider cantering swiftly after the ones who had left. For an instant he was puzzled, and then with a little leap of his heart, he realised it had to be Gandalf! If Gandalf was going with them, then surely all would be right.

He went back inside, determined to go back to bed. He had a fierce headache. Perhaps it had been the wine- he wasn't allowed it very often. He'd feel better by breakfast time.


	16. Beware the Wolf in Darkness Born, part 1

My apologies for taking so long to update! I've had some RL stress, plus some other fandom duties that cut into my writing time. Things are better now, and I hope to get back on schedule!

**Chapter 16: Beware the Wolf in Darkness Born**

_Second Yule, S.R. 1312_

His headache was not gone before breakfast. In point of fact, it was worse. And he had begun sneezing and coughing. Aunt Citrine confirmed it: he had finally come down with the catarrh himself, and he was thoroughly miserable.

Citrine and Sage discussed whether to use the special Elvish medicine on him. But his case was not yet severe. "We have a limited supply, Miss Sage," said Citrine, and it's best to save it for more serious cases. It's to be hoped that Bilbo's bout will not become that serious."

Indeed, that first day he did not even run much of a fever. And once he'd been dosed with willow-bark and other more common herbs, he slept most of the day, waking occasionally to comforting hands smoothing back the hair on his brow. Once he opened his eyes to see that it was his mother, and he choked back a sob of joy."

"Oh my lad! What's the matter?" Belladonna asked, wondering if he were in pain.

"Oh, Mama! I feared you'd never do this again. I was so worried."

She leaned over and placed a kiss on his brow. "You took such good care of your Papa and me, my love. You rest now, your worries are over."

Over the next few days, his fever and his aches grew, and Citrine and Miss Sage watched carefully lest the illness enter his lungs, for if it did that would indeed be a sign that the medicine Gandalf brought was called for. But the congestion seemed to remain in his head, which was a good sign, the healers thought. Still, he felt too sore and tired to even be bored, and he slept much of the time, save when the fever grew and made him restless. But all through that time, he felt contentment to have his mother and father hovering over him and taking care of him, feeding him broth and bringing him his tea and toast, singing to him and sitting with him when his aunt was not there. Both his parents were still very pale and weak, and both of them still had a lingering cough that troubled him. But they told him they felt much better and spoke cheerfully and lightly to him, his mother singing songs of the Tooklands, his father telling him amusing stories of long ago.

Miss Sage had returned to her mistress once they were certain she was no longer needed at Bag End, for there were still many others who were ill in Hobbiton in need of healers, and sometimes Aunt Citrine would join Miss Sage and Mistress Rose (who had recovered) when they were seeing their many patients.

Then one night Bilbo's fever grew worse; he was burning up, and he kept dreaming, this time of flames roaring at his heels, and the mocking laughter of a deep and rumbling voice. He could scarcely hear the voices of his parents, and he was throwing off the blankets which they sought to keep him under, lest he take a chill as well.

Then he felt his aching head lifted, and a cool spoon slipped between his lips. The taste was indescribable, the scent was of spring flowers and fresh breezes and a salty tang he had never smelled before-yet somehow, he knew it was the Sea...

He woke the next morning with no headache for the first time in days. His mother came in just then, bringing tea and toast. "Mama, could I have some jam with my toast?" he asked.

Indeed, she was overjoyed to bring him some strawberry jam, and even an extra piece of toast-it was the first sign of interest he had taken in his food since becoming ill.

Over the next few days, Bilbo was still not allowed out of bed, save for his father helping him take a bath-for he found he was still weak and light-headed when he tried to get up. But he was eating more, and sleeping less. And he was beginning to get very weary of his bed and the walls of his room.

_11 Afteryule, S.R. 1312_

Since he had begun to feel better, he'd been reading. And today his father had come to sit with him, and told him he needed to take up his lessons once more. And that if he did not run a fever tonight, he would be allowed to come into the parlour tomorrow and sit by the hearth.

Bungo had gone out to the kitchen to fetch them both a tray for their luncheon. His father was still breathing very heavily, and he moved so slowly now. Bilbo was worried. His mother and father should be much better by now, shouldn't they? He knew that both of them had been so very much more ill than he, that he had come dreadfully close to losing them both. He glanced out his window-things were still white as far as he could see.

He heard his door open-perhaps it was Papa with their luncheon? He turned and gave a gasp of surprise. It was not his Papa who stood there holding the tray, but his cousin Adalgrim.

"Chop!" he exclaimed, "you're back! And safe! Are the wolves gone? What happened? Is everyone all right?"

Adalgrim laughed. "Slow down, Bilbo! I'll answer all your questions and tell you the whole story! But let's do some justice to this fine food while it's still hot-I've ridden for hours in the snow and I could use the warmth!"

Once they had disposed of the hot vegetable soup, the bread and cheese, and were beginning to make inroads on the stewed dried fruit, Bilbo leaned back against his pillows. "So tell me what happened, Chop!"

His cousin's face sobered. "It really was not much fun; I was scared spitless, Bilbo, if you want to know the truth. But here is how it happened...

...They'd ridden out of Hobbiton, the local hobbits adding to their number; the muster now had a full forty. The road was almost clear to the edge of town, and they could ride two or three abreast until they came to the outskirts. But the road that led to Bywater was no more than ruts in the snow; they turned east, and just as they had they heard hoofbeats behind them. Isumbras raised his arm for them to halt and they'd looked back to see the tall figure of a Big Person following them on a great horse. It was Gandalf. The wizard slowed as he approached, and then his horse passed the line of ponies until he came alongside Isumbras.

"Your father thought I could be of more use with you than at the Great Smials," he said.

"How is he?" Isumbras asked.

"Grieving still, but he will heal. For now he is more worried about the wolves. He does not want to lose anyone else."

Isumbras nodded, and they moved on, forty ponies and one horse, plodding mostly single file along the road. The Sun was fully up, and she shone brightly down upon the snow-covered Shire. The sky was clear today. It was to be hoped there would be no more snow for a while.

Normally they would have reached Frogmorton by noon, but it was closer to teatime when the first signs of the village came into sight, and they were freezing and exhausted. As in Hobbiton, the main part of the road was clear, more or less, but sidestreets were still piled with snow. The cottages and smials had their front doors clear, but many of the windows were still blocked. Thin streams of smoke rose from the chimneys, but that was the only sign of life. Not a soul was to be seen outside...

_The Floating Log_ and its stable were the only building completely clear of snow. The muster rode up to the front of the inn, and Isumbras dismounted, signalling the others to wait. The inn door was shut fast, and he raised a gloved hand and knocked hard on it. He waited. Then he knocked again, much harder. "Is anybody in there?" he yelled.

After another long moment, and just as he was getting ready to knock again, the door opened. It was an elderly gammer, her white hair tucked up under her cap. Her eyes and nose were red, and she looked weary.

She peered out near-sightedly. "T' inn's closed. My son is laid up sick, and we've no provisions."

"I am sorry about that, Mistress. But I am Isumbras Took, and" he gestured behind him, "the Shire muster has been called. There are wolves in the Shire and we must deal with them."

"Mercy!" she exclaimed, going even whiter than she was.

"We've brought food with us, but we could use a night in out of the cold, and drink if you have it. And," he gestured again, "we have with us Gandalf the Wizard, who brought some Elvish medicine to our aid. If your son is suffering from the catarrh, he may be able to help."

She nodded, and stepped back. "I'm that sorry, sir; come in, of course," she said. "We've ale and beer a-plenty in the cellar though some of your folk must fetch it up, for my joints won't go down the steps no more. And we've firewood as well, thanks to the ice storm, but someone will have to bring that in as well from the back. And you'll have to stable your own ponies. It's only my son and me. My grandson was a-helping us-my daughter's son, he lives in the cottage across the way-but he's laid up sick too, now. 'Most the whole village is either sick or getting over sick or tending the sick. We've had no custom to speak of since the middle of Foreyule..."

"Do not fret, Mistress! As I said, my people have brought their own food, and don't worry, the Thain will pay you well for putting us up." He turned back and gave the order for the hobbits to dismount.

Adalgrim, his cousin Hildibold, and Herry Bolger found themselves assigned to stabling the ponies. Although anxious to get into the inn where they could get warm and rest, it was a relief simply to be in out of the wind and blocked from the worst of the cold. Gandalf brought his big horse into the stable himself, and the young hobbits were amazed as he helped them groom and feed the ponies after he had finished with his horse. Between the four of them they made relatively quick work of it and then braved the cold once more for the few dozen steps to the inn.

The difference between the cold outside and the warm inside was much more than it had been in the stable, and Adalgrim found his face burning and tingling as he began to warm up-he had not until this moment realized just how_ cold_he was.

Once he had an ale inside him, and a warm meal-stew made from the dried vegetables and meat they had brought along-he soon found himself drowsing. The hobbits did not disturb any of the rooms of the inn. All of them made themselves comfortable with their blankets upon the floor round the hearth. Adalgrim and Hildibold talked quietly for a while before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning the muster rose early while it was still dark. After talking with Isumbras, it was decided that Gandalf would spend part of the day checking on those who were still ill, to see if he could help them. The innkeeper was already beginning to recover and had not needed the Elvish medicine, but there were others in the village who might benefit.  
It was also decided that Isengar would remain as well, since unlike the Tooks, the villagers of Frogmorton did not have the long acquaintance with the wizard. The presence of one of the Thain's sons might reassure them. Isumbras had to lead the muster, so his younger brother took on that duty.

The hobbits were mounting, and Isengar and Gandalf watched them leave. Gandalf was certain they would catch up with them by the end of the day. "This is a small village, and many of those who have been ill have already begun to recover. There are only a few who are seriously ill. We should be able to leave after luncheon, and should have no problem following you all."

"Take care, big brother!" said Isengar.

There were flurries of snow as the ponies rode out of the village, and Adalgrim feared that they might be in for more, but the snow remained light and by the time the sun was fully up it had ceased altogether, though the sky remained overcast and the air was damp.

In Whitfurrows they had received word of the wolves-several Brandybucks had come with warning and remained there yet. So far however, no sign had been seen of the creatures. The Brandybucks determined to join the muster, and so they had half a dozen more added to the muster when they left.

But it was just beyond there that they found the first traces-a farmer hailed them, with the information that the wolves had been howling round his place the night before. "Thanks to the Brandybucks for the warning-me sons and me made sure that all the animals was shut up good and tight in the barn! But the howls spooked 'em something awful-they was bellowing and kicking at the stalls most of the night!" He showed them the tracks that encircled the barn and even came up by the doors of the house. They led away cross-country to a slightly southwestern direction.

A few of the hobbits who were good trackers examined the signs.

Matt Brockhouse, whose father ran The Leaping Hare in Tuckborough, had been checking the tracks. "Mr. Isumbras, it looks like there are twenty in the pack, give or take one or two. The signs indicate two went ahead of the pack, the others all followed behind. Nothing to show any of them turned away. They're headed to the Green Hills country and the Woody End."

Orgulas Brandybuck had been speaking to his kin who had brought the warning to Whitfurrows. He came over to tell them that a large number of Brandybucks had crossed over the Brandywine and managed to muster up a several hobbits in the Marish. "They plan to try and scare the wolves back towards the north."

Isumbras nodded. "If we can we want to drive them north of the Bridge before we allow them to cross back over the River. They will be much less of a threat there. How firm is the ice?"

Orgulas shook his head. "It's hard to say. It is so rare for it to freeze over like this, but I am sure it's firm enough to allow them to pass back across."

"But will they stay on the other side, is the question?" He looked at the tracks, and thought for a moment. "We need to divide our force. Half of us will follow the tracks on the west side, half on the east. If the Brandybucks are able to turn them back to the north, we can keep them from venturing further into the Shire, or from crossing back over into Buckland. Then we can close in together once we are north of the Bridge and begin driving them over the River once more."

Adalgrim found himself in the group on the west of the tracks. They were not that far from one another-each group was still within sight of the other, but they kept far to each side of the wolf sign. Matt and a couple of others who were good trackers rode following the tracks, keeping an eye out for any sign the wolves had separated or changed their course.

It was a cold, long ride. Adalgrim was tired and hungry, and wondered when they would stop. From the determined look on Uncle Isumbras' face, it would probably not be before supper. And it was already beginning to get dusky. Once the Sun went down, they would have to stop, or risk losing the trail.

Just then, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold in an entirely different way. The howls of the wolves could clearly be heard...

xxxxx

(A/N: This chapter's title comes from the song "Beware the Wolf" by Jon Anderson, and featured on the CD _In Elven Lands._)


	17. Beware the Wolf in Darkness Born, part 2

**Chapter 17: Beware the Wolf in Darkness Born, part 2**

_11 Afteryule, S.R. 1312_

Adalgrim fell silent then, and for so long that at first Bilbo thought he had fallen asleep.

"Chop?" he asked.

His cousin gave a start. "I'm sorry, Bilbo! I was just thinking." His eyes were distant.

"Were you frightened?" It was hard to imagine Chop being frightened of anything. Chop was just about the most Tookish Took Bilbo knew of among his many maternal relations.

"My heart was right down in my toes, cousin," was the surprisingly serious response. "I've never heard such a sound in my life before, and I hope never to hear it again."

"What happened next?"

"Stopping to rest, or even stopping long enough to get something from our saddlebags to eat was out of the question. We knew that we were getting close to at least some of the wolves-the howls were too close for them to be far away...

**xxxxx**

...Adalgrim's heart was pounding. He glanced over at Herry and Hildibold who rode beside him. They looked as terrified as he felt.

Then came a shout from the front of the line: his Uncle Isumbras—"That way, lads!" he called, and urged his pony into a trot, a dangerous thing in all the snow. The others did the same. Adalgrim gave a look to his left where he saw the distant shadows of the rest of the company increasing their speed as well.

In spite of the fact that the sky had already begun to darken, the snow made it easier to see. They followed the tracks up over a hill, and below them the scene was spread out before them: a small farm surrounded by wolves and a bloody scene of dead sheep in a pen, a hobbit holding a flaming brand, doing his best to hold the wolves at bay, and from the windows of the small farmhouse, the screams of the mother and children as they could see the farmer's danger. The wolves were beginning to lose their fear of the fire, and his burning torch could not last much longer.

But Uncle Isumbras did not allow them to hesitate—he urged them all forward, and unslung his bow. As soon as they were close enough, he loosed an arrow.

It took the wolf nearest the farmer, and it fell with a horrible cry. The wolves turned.

Perhaps it was that the wind turned as well, or perhaps it was simply seeing the predators turning in their direction, but suddenly several of the ponies became skittish, and more than one hobbit was thrown from his mount. Herry was among those who were unseated, and Adalgrim only just barely kept control of his own pony.

But crouched low, the wolves had begun to move towards the hobbits. They had forgotten now about the farmer, who took the chance to run back to his house. He was seen by one wolf, which turned to pursue him, and he scarcely made it. If his wife had not been watching and opened the door at just the right instant, and slamming it behind him, he would have been caught. If it had been only a few feet closer when it made for him he would never have been saved. The wolf howled its frustration and reared up on its back legs to claw at the door, leaving deep gouges. Then as if it realised the rest of the pack was not with it, it turned and ran to join them.

Then suddenly there came another sound, the sound of a horn! In the distance Adalgrim could see a line of hobbits a-foot moving toward the farm from the other direction. The horn blew loudly, and there were the sounds of shouts and yells brought on the wind to Adalgrim's ears.

One of the wolves near the rear gave a yelp, and turned, confused. Adalgrim realized it had been hit by a stone. The other hobbits must have been the Brandybucks and the hobbits they had brought with them!

Another wolf yelped, and this one went to the ground, felled by the well-thrown stone.

"Get around to the sides!" Isumbras yelled. They needed to contain the wolves and drive them north. If the wolves were caught on either side, with the Brandybucks behind them they might be able to accomplish that.

The hobbits who were still mounted had been able finally to get their ponies under control; but the ponies of those who had been unmounted had bolted. Herry was still on the ground and the wolves were coming fast.

His heart in his throat, Adalgrim took aim with his bow and saw it hit the wolf nearest Herry so hard that the wolf was tumbled backwards as it fell. The second closest wolf was also hit, and Adalgrim saw that Hildibold had also taken a wolf down. He rode quickly over to Herry and reached down to help him up behind. Riding double with Herry, Hildibold brought his pony back into the line of the other hobbits and Adalgrim followed.

There was another hobbit down. Adalgrim could not see who it was, but the wolves were closing in on whoever it was, and he was terrified that he was going to see a fellow hobbit torn to pieces before his very eyes!

Indeed, one of them had reached the unfortunate fellow and soon had him by the leg. He gave a horrid scream of pain.

Suddenly there was a burst of light, as a mighty voice like thunder cried out _"Naur an edraith ammen!" _

The wolf withdrew with a howl of pain as a ball of fire struck it squarely in the flank. Gandalf rode down the hill, his staff pointed before him. The wolves scattered in confusion, and the wizard leaped from his horse, gathered up the injured hobbit and then remounted. He rode quickly to the line of hobbits on their ponies. "Do not allow them to scatter!" Gandalf's voice carried over all the chaos. Adalgrim found himself heartened by the sound of it.

Bows were abandoned for stones. Pelted from behind by the Brandybucks and from either side by the hobbits of the muster, the wolves began to flee in the direction that was desired: north!

Very quickly, lest the wolves turn, Isumbras told off the majority of the muster to continue pursuing them. Hobbits who were unmounted or who had been injured were taken down to the farmhouse to be tended to.

This meant Hildibold had to bear Herry down to the farmhouse. "I'll catch up later, Chop!" he called.

It was nearly half an hour before he did so. Adalgrim had found his Uncle Isengar, who was directing some of them to fall in behind the wolves so that they joined with the hobbits who had been riding to the east of the wolves at the other end. Most of the Brandybucks had been afoot, and would not be able to keep pace with those who were on ponies.

"Uncle 'Gar," Adalgrim said joyfully. "How did you come to be here at just the right moment?"

"It never does to underestimate a wizard, Chop," he said. Isengar was the only one of Adalgrim's uncles who used that name. "We left the village right after tea, but since all of you kept moving, it took us a while to catch up with you! But Gandalf knew right where to come."

Although the hobbits rode as fast as they could, the wolves ran faster, and soon they lost sight of them altogether. Yet it was encouraging to see that the tracks did not veer off, nor were there any signs of one wolf leaving the pack to go in another direction. Adalgrim was beyond exhaustion and light-headed with hunger before they were allowed a brief stop.

They were nearly ready to mount up again when Uncle Isumbras, Gandalf, Hildibold and a few other hobbits who had assisted those who were dismounted or injured or both returned to join the others.

"Uncle Isumbras, how is Hildibold?" Adalgrim asked. He had gone up to greet the returning hobbits.

"Other than dislocating his knee when he was thrown, he is doing well," his uncle replied. "The farmer's wife has had some training as a healer, though she wed before her apprenticeship was completed. She is taking care of the wounded."

"Who was the hobbit that the wolf got to, Uncle? I could not see who he was."

"That was Inigo Proudfoot. His leg is very badly injured, and Mrs. Puddifoot is not certain if it will heal completely. Most of the others had simple injuries from being thrown from their ponies and will recover well, but there were two among the Brandybucks who were also savaged by the wolves as they attempted to drive them off. One of them may not live."

Adalgrim gave a shudder.

"We cannot afford to rest long. Get some food in you, lad. We shall be mounted up and on our way again inside a half an hour. We cannot allow the wolves a chance to veer West, nor can we take a chance that any of them will separate."

Gandalf shook his head. "That is very unlikely," he said. "These are ordinary wolves, they are not Wargs, and they are loyal to their pack. They would not be in the Shire if they were not starving."

"The old tales," said Isumbras, "claim that wolves are evil creatures!"

"Those the Enemy captured and transformed by foul means are indeed evil creatures of the Dark," replied Gandalf. "Real wolves hate them, as the wargs hate the wolves. When these wolves are in their own place far to the north of here, they are known as noble and loyal creatures. It is this dreadful Winter that has sent them in search of food and brought them to the Shire. Yet while I feel pity for them, they cannot be allowed to rampage over the Shire and harm good hobbits—who are not, after all, their natural food!"

"Enough talk," said Isumbras, looking at the frightened faces of his nephews. "Rest as much as you can, and eat what you can. We've got to be on our way soon!"

The Moon had risen, and he gave enough light upon the snow to make it nearly as bright as mid-day. The pursuing hobbits of the muster could see the tracks of the wolves well enough as they continued straight North. By midnight the trail crossed the East-West Road, and they could see that it had begun to swing slightly to the West.

The wolves had crossed the Water between Frogmorton and Budgeford, for it was quite as frozen as the Brandywine, but they had halted briefly, for the hobbits came across another isolated farm that had been visited by the wolves—though it was still a few hours until the Sun showed her face the lights in the cot were all ablaze, and the farmer and his wife were out looking at the damage done to their chicken coop, which had been destroyed. They had lost many birds, some devoured by the wolves, others escaped in terror.

"They're gone, sir," said the farmer to Uncle Isumbras. "You're not half an hour behind them."

The tracks continued to veer slightly to the West. "We must ride fast," Isumbras said. "We have to get alongside them on the West side, but also behind them. We shall swing out in a curve, and begin to drive them East!"

The farmer had ponies as well, locked securely in the barn along with the family cow and goats. He also had two sturdy sons, one just come of age, the other almost of age. They joined the muster, in spite of their mother's tears.

"Let'em go, Verbena," said the farmer. "It's something that's needful to be done! Or do you want to see them wolves get to Brockenborings where Cherryblossom and the grandbabies bide?"

"Oh mercy!" she cried, "I never thought on that!"

She insisted though that the hobbits remain long enough to each have a sip of hot tea and a few gingerbiscuits—taken ponyback while the sons saddled their ponies. Adalgrim thanked her profusely. He had begun to think he'd never have sup nor bite again.

She gave him a motherly smile, and took the tin mug and the teapot to the next hobbit, as her daughter followed with the basket of gingerbiscuits.

The sons came out of the barn, mounted on their ponies, and the whole troupe of hobbits moved out, riding as quickly as they could—riding all the faster for their brief respite.

It was less than an hour later when they espied their quarry—they had at last drawn even. There were only a few more than a dozen wolves left. Several had been slain in their first encounter.

"We must begin to curve around them. Do not move any closer than your arm can throw!" Isumbras called. "And now we must go slowly. We do not want to get so close that they feel they must attack us."

Gandalf was riding towards the center of the great half-circle they had formed. The ponies moved slowly, but the wolves had stopped, their pack moving closely together. The animals stared at them. Their leader began to growl and move slowly towards the advancing hobbits.

Adalgrim let fly with one of the stones from his pocket. It hit the packleader on the nose, and he gave a yelp of pain. But he only backed up a little bit.

"He is trying to protect the others," called Gandalf. "So long as he stands his ground the others will not flee." The wizard raised his staff and called out once more in that strange tongue, and once more he flung a fireball from the end of his staff. This one did not hit the wolf, but it exploded right in front of him.

With a yowl, he turned and fled, the rest of the pack right behind him—to the East towards the River. The hobbits advanced behind them, not charging the frightened animals, but moving steadily, and the barrage of stones and the occasional fireball encouraged the wolves to keep running. Soon they ran so fast that they outpaced the hobbits, but their tracks continued straight to the River.

The tracks continued on and the hobbits followed; now that it was broad daylight, they could easily see if any broke away from the pack or if the wolves turned aside.

They did not. The tracks led to the Brandywine just North of Girdley Island, and straight across the frozen River.

The hobbits gazed at the tracks, and the solid ice. Isumbras looked at Gandalf. "Should we go after them? What's to stop them from coming back?"

Gandalf shook his head. "They will not return. They are intelligent beasts, and will not wish to become prey themselves—they will remember the opposition they faced. But just to make sure no other foes think the frozen River is a good way to come into the Shire—" He raised his staff one more time, pointed at the center of the Brandywine, and shouted out once more. Then there was the brightest flash yet, and when the hobbits could see once more the ice was broken and steam was rising from the center of the River…

**xxxxx**

…"And that's what happened, Bilbo. I have never been so sore and tired and hungry in my life. Uncle led the muster to the Stonebow Inn in Bridgefields, and they put us up. They were only in a little better shape there than at Frogmorton, but they did have plenty of beds and hot tea and some provisions. We rested a couple of days before we headed back. Gandalf left us there and went East, saying he had other friends to check on, and most of the others went back to Tuckborough. Uncle Isumbras was going to go back through the Puddifoot's farm to see about Mr. Proudfoot and Hildibold and the other injured hobbits, but Uncle 'Gar and I came back by way of the Road so we could stop here in Hobbiton. We had to bring Mag and Hom and the other Hobbiton volunteers back, and to explain to the Bolgers why Herry is delayed. And of course, to pick up Aunt Citrine."

Bilbo stared at his older cousin in amazement. "Chop, you're a hero!" he exclaimed. "Why you helped to save the Shire, and you had an Adventure!"

Adalgrim laughed. "If that is Adventure, my dear cousin, you can keep it. Adventures are nasty things that make you late for supper! But of course," he said more soberly, "it was needful, Bilbo. The whole Shire was in danger." He took a deep breath. "It still is. I could wish that Gandalf could have stayed a little longer. I do not know what we'd have done without him." Then his eyes twinkled and Bilbo saw the remnants of his older cousin's mischief in them. "But oh! his fireworks were glorious! I would love to find out if that staff works for anyone besides him!"

Bilbo's eyes went wide. "Chop! You wouldn't have dared!"

Adalgrim wiggled his eyebrows. "You never know what this fool of a Took might do." He ruffled Bilbo's hair and stood up, taking the tray. "You get some rest, Bilbo-lad. We will be a day or so, I expect before Aunt Citrine is ready to go."

(A/N: This chapter's title comes from the song "Beware the Wolf" by Jon Anderson, and featured on the CD_ In Elven Lands.) _


	18. The Wood Was Burning Fast and the Snow S

**The Wood Was Burning Fast, and the Snow Still Fell**

_7 Solmath, S.R. 1312_

Aunt Citrine had in fact, stayed four more days, and therefore so had Uncle 'Gar and Chop. She had wished to make certain Bilbo was well on his way to recovery; also, she had been assisting Mistress Rose and Miss Sage in the village with their patients. The catarrh seemed to have run its course. There had been no other new cases since Bilbo had fallen ill. Still, many who had been ill were slow in recovering. His aunt had said nothing of her worries about Bungo and Belladonna to Bilbo, but he had caught her giving them worried looks and he could tell that she was not happy with their progress. They still had lingering coughs and both of them seemed to get out of breath after even the least of exertions-especially his father.

Bilbo had said farewell to his Took kin reluctantly. He was going to miss their presence in the _smial_, especially Chop, though his cousin seemed far more grown-up than ever before.

Once they had gone, life returned more or less to normal, or what passed for normal in this bleak winter. The supplies provided by the Thain meant they could have regular meals-although they were somewhat limited in variety, and the three limited themselves to two servings, or sometimes even one. Perhaps their illnesses had blunted their appetites, because that did not seem nearly the hardship it once had. But winter continued.

As Solmath arrived, weary hobbits would have welcomed the usual dreary weather of the second month of the year. Normally Solmath was cloudy and rainy and chill. This year it was clear and cold and the snow showed no signs of melting away, although there had been no new snowfall since the last week of Afteryule.

That changed on the seventh. Bilbo woke to looming snow-laden skies that morning, and he shuddered-not with cold, but with dread. How much snow this time? He'd been chopping wood the day before, and he realised with some shock that the stack of wood which had seemed so endless after the ice storm now looked painfully small. Was there enough there to get them through until spring? And when would spring happen? In some years there had even been signs of snowdrops this early, but not this year.

He washed and dressed quickly. He should probably bring in the day's wood as soon as breakfast was finished this morning.

He went to the kitchen; as he approached, his heart gave a lurch to hear his father coughing hard-it sounded to Bilbo nearly as bad as when his father had been still ill, and his heart gave a lurch.

"Papa!" he exclaimed, as he went into the kitchen.

Bungo looked up at Bilbo miserably, as he drew in a wheezing breath. Bilbo saw his father dressed in his outerwear, and an armload of firewood lay scattered near the kitchen door. Belladonna was approaching her husband with a spoon and a bottle in hand. It was a cough elixir Aunt Citrine had left for such occasions.

"You should not have tried to bring in the wood, Bungo!" she scolded.

"I was going to bring it in this morning, Papa!" said Bilbo. "Truly I was!"

Bungo drew breath cautiously. When he did not immediately begin coughing again, he drew in a deeper breath and then said in a low voice, "Oh, Bilbo! I do not doubt you, son! But you should not _have_ to still be doing everything!" His father shook his head in frustration. "It breaks my heart to see you having to do all of the hard work! It is my responsibility to keep my family warm and fed!" He spoke more forcefully and suddenly began to cough again. Bilbo looked up to see his mother had gone white, and appeared to sway briefly. He pulled out a chair for her, and then finished seeing to breakfast: they were back to plain porridge and tea again. Afterwards, he bundled up and went out to bring in enough for two days. He also brought the snow shovel back inside, propping it in the broom closet by the larder door.

After a second breakfast of tea and scones with some of the pear preserves that the Tooks had brought, the little family was glum but resigned.

"We are going to need to be more careful with the firewood. We will heat only the parlour and the kitchen from now until the weather breaks. We will also sleep there. We'll bring featherbeds, blankets and pillows into the parlour, and we will keep the fire there banked as low as we can most of the time."

Bilbo and his mother nodded.

"Bungo," said Belladonna,"I have been thinking perhaps you and I should go through the _mathom_ rooms. We've any amount of old furniture and such that we no longer use; if necessary we can break it up for firewood."

Bilbo shook his head. "Mama, those rooms are dusty. I do not want you and Papa spending time in them until I can get a chance to dust and clean them!" The memory of his father's coughing spell that morning was still fresh in his mind. He did not think he could bear to have either of them sick as they were before. He did not know if he could do that again.

"Oh, Bilbo!" his mother exclaimed. Tears stood in her eyes.

He set his face. "I will get to it as soon as we are through eating," he said. "It's not like I have anything else to do anyway."

That night, Bilbo curled up with his parents in front of the parlor hearth on the featherbeds that had been dragged from the bedsteads; the three of them were piled with blankets, and Bilbo was warm enough except for his nose. It was just about the only thing peeking through the blankets, and it was freezing.

He was exhausted. The _mathom_ rooms had not been dusted since his parents had fallen ill last fall. But now they had been dusted and aired, so that Bilbo thought they would be safe enough to spend time in them. He hoped they did not have to chop up the old furniture, but he remembered how small the woodpile was in the morning. If they had not decided to ration the wood more strictly, they would have been out of fuel in less than two weeks. With the new measures they were taking, it would probably last three, but if winter did not break soon. He shuddered, nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with their dire situation. Even so, his father pulled him closer, pulled the covers up higher. The body warmth helped to calm him, and soon he drifted off to the sound of his parents' gentle breathing.

_12 Solmath, S.R. 1312_

It had snowed off and on for five days. Never long enough to snow them in again, but the second day, Bilbo had needed to shovel his way to the woodpile once more. He had brought what was left right up next to the back door, and there was probably enough for another week and a half if they were _very_ careful.

His parents had chosen a couple of broken bookcases and a few rickety chairs as the first things to go if it came down to breaking up the furniture. He hoped it didn't come to that. Surely it would warm up again some day.

At least he was sleeping better now. Perhaps it was childish to be so comforted by all of them sleeping together now in order to keep warm, but it reminded him of when he was very young. His parents seemed to be better as well. Mama hardly coughed at all now, though she still seemed to get breathless with very little exertion. Papa continued to cough, and he had given up his pipe "at least until this cursed cough is gone" which had made him rather cross for a few days. But at least the coughing spells were no longer so long and so hard as they had been.

In an effort to stave off boredom, Bilbo and his father had resumed his lessons, but he found it hard to keep his mind on them today, perhaps because it was arithmetic. Bilbo was not nearly so fond of numbers as he was of tales. And he found the more complex problems his father set him now to be very frustrating. Right now he was ready to throw his slate across the room, for he had come up with two different answers to the exact same set of numbers and he could not seem to reconcile them at all. He feared to try the problem again, lest he come up with yet a third then, there was a knocking at the door. Bilbo gave a start and dropped his slate with a clatter. His father who had been dozing in his armchair by the hearth woke with a jerk. Belladonna was in the kitchen preparing luncheon, so Bilbo got up to answer the door, wondering who'd be out in this kind of weather. Still, he was glad of the interruption.

To his surprise, it was the Postmaster, Ned Brown. "Come in from the cold, Mr. Brown," he said. "I will call Papa."

"No time, Master Bilbo. A postrider finally made it from Overhill after all this time, and I've a mort of letters to deliver." He took a bundle of letters from his battered leather pouch and handed them to Bilbo. Bilbo instantly recognized his Uncle Bingo's handwriting.

He closed the door behind the departing posthobbit, and looked at the letters in his hand, then returned to the parlour. "Papa, here are letters from Uncle Bingo. There are at least ten of them."

Bungo's eyes widened in surprise as he took them and glanced them over. "It seems that none of these were delivered since before your mother and I fell ill. I suppose it took longer for the roads to be cleared between here and Overhill."

Bilbo nodded. While the distance was shorter to Overhill than it was to Tuckborough in the other direction, the lay of the land meant that the snow was much deeper in some areas of the road. His father was examining the dates on the outside of the letters, and Bilbo decided to let him read them in peace. "I'll go see if Mama needs some help with luncheon," he said.

Belladonna was finishing up the meal as he entered-soup made of dried vegetables, bread toasted with a small sprinkle of Pincup cheese on top, and a jar of mixed pickles from the supplies Gerontius had sent. She was making tea to accompany the meal, and Bilbo began to lay the table without being told.

"Who was at the door?" she asked him.

"Mr. Brown. A postrider finally arrived from Overhill, and there were many letters from Uncle Bingo. Papa's reading them now."

"Well, he can tell us about what your uncle has to say over lunch. Go fetch him, please, son, and we will eat."

Bilbo went back into the parlour, calling out cheerily, "Papa, Mama says that lunch-" he broke off abruptly at the sight of his father. The letters lay scattered on the floor, and his father was sitting forward, clutching at his chest. His face was as white as Bilbo had ever seen it, his lips nearly blue, and sweat was beaded on his forehead. Bilbo ran over to him. "Papa?"

Bungo looked up at him miserably, barely able to raise his head.

"Mama!" Bilbo shouted. "Mama! Something's wrong!"

Belladonna hurried into the parlour, and at the sight of her husband turned to Bilbo. "Go! Fetch Mistress Rose or Miss Sage at once!"

Bilbo raced to the front door, grabbing his jacket from the peg, but not bothering with his scarf or cloak, much less his mittens or leggings. He raced out of the smial and down the lane, floundering in a small drift of snow at the verge before he began hurrying down the road. Mistress Rose and Miss Sage were now staying in town, at the Rumble's _smial_, in order to be more accessible to the villagers in an emergency. Bilbo kept thinking as he ran: "Please be there! Please be there!"

Fortunately, both of them were there, and at Bilbo's news, they grabbed their satchels and followed immediately.

When they arrived at Bag End, it was to find that Belladonna had helped her husband to lie down upon the pallet where the family had been sleeping, and was helping him to sip a cup of willow-bark tea. "It was all I could think of," she said, "for his pain."

Mistress Rose nodded. "That's good. Let me examine him," she said, pulling off her pendulum. "Sage, I need the foxglove tincture..."

Bilbo and his mother retreated to a corner. His mother had picked up the scattered letters from the floor.

She put her arms around Bilbo's shoulders. "I know now what brought this on, son. Your Grandmother Laura..." she shook her head, and Bilbo stared up at her in mute comprehension.

Now this horrible winter had stolen both his grandmothers.


	19. When Winter Came Without a Spring

**Chapter 19: When Winter Comes Without a Spring**

_28 Solmath, S.R. 1312_

Bilbo had thought the worst of that horrible winter had passed until that day his father received Uncle Bingo's letter. The days that followed were more dreary than ever, and the news of his grandmother's death was only the beginning of more bad news that began to trickle in from various friends and family. First came a letter from Cousin Polo: Great-uncle Ponto had died just before the Turning of the Year, but isolated as the family was on Cousin Polo's farm between Bywater and Waymeet, the news had taken months to arrive. Then Cousin Herry's grandmother, Great-aunt Pansy Bolger, had succumbed to lung fever after all thought she had recovered well from her bout with the catarrh. Not even a week later, Cousin Fosco arrived at Bag End's front door with the sad news that his father Great-uncle Largo had suffered an apoplexy among his wife's people in the Southfarthing, and was not expected to live. Cousin Fosco was distraught, for he could not travel to be by his father's side. Even if the snow had not still made travel difficult, he could not leave his wife and baby Dudo now.

And just this past Sterday had come word up the Hill that Great-aunt Lily Goodbody had slipped away in her sleep. Her daughter-in-law, also named Lily, had gone to take her morning tea, and found her cold and peaceful in her bed.*

Bilbo often felt tears pricking his eyes as he looked at his father, who had begun to wince at every knock on the door, fearing that it would only bring more bad news. Bungo seemed to have aged ten years in the last three weeks. Mistress Rose said the lung fever had affected his heart as well as his lungs, and that he would have to be careful not to over-exert himself from now on. His father needed a cane to walk, and it seemed that even after short distances he was out of breath.

His mother, too, seemed older and quieter. The Tookish twinkle in her eyes had been extinguished, and Bilbo could think of nothing that would bring it back. There was more grey in her chestnut hair now as well. It was hard to even coax a smile from her anymore.

And there had been no break in the weather. The woodpile had been depleted, and an old dresser, a small cupboard and a ancient table had followed the rickety bookcases and the decrepit chairs into the hearth. The _mathom_ rooms were nearly depleted of worn-out furniture, and if spring did not come soon, then they would have to begin burning pieces that were still good. And Bilbo was not deceived: he had seen his father gazing with pain-filled eyes at the books in the study. If push came to shove, they would burn the books, though that would only be a last resort, he knew.

Today had been the bleakest day yet. They had used up the last of the preserved fruit that the Tooks had brought, it seemed so long ago, and every meal had been barley gruel. The three Bagginses had passed their day in unbroken silence so far, too discouraged even for polite conversation. What was there to say, after all?

As they huddled around the scant fire in the parlour, sipping weak tea, they heard another knock at the door. Bungo gave a start, and dropped his teacup. He looked at it in dismay, but made no move to pick it up. He had gone quite white, and Belladonna was biting her lip.

Bilbo stood up. "I will answer the door, Papa," he said. His voice sounded rusty and unused.

"Thank you, son," Bungo whispered.

Bilbo went to the door with dread. If it was the posthobbit, he thought he might just slam and bolt the door. His parents simply could not take anymore bad news.

To his surprise, it was Farmer Button. He stood on the step, twisting his cap. Bilbo could see his sledge in the lane by the gate.

"Afternoon, Master Bilbo. How's the Squire?" he asked.

"Papa has not been feeling well, Mr. Button. Do you need to speak to him?"

"It's only that I thought that folks could use some wood. That old byre in my back pasture, it just fell over t'other day. 'T was a good-sized building a-fore it went to ruin. I'd planned to pull it down this spring, since we built the new one last year. Anyhow, me lads and me, we thought to share the wood-there's a goodly lot of it, young sir."

Bilbo could have jumped with joy, but he restrained himself. He was representing his Papa right now. "Oh, yes, Mr. Button! That would be wonderful! But can you spare it?"

"We've kept enough for our needs, Master Bilbo, and we've still got some o' the ice storm wood, for we lost so many branches in the orchard!"

"Thank you, then, ever so much! Let me tell Papa and Mama, and I will put on my coat and come help you to unload some!"

They left enough of the well-seasoned old wood to last for several more days, if the Bagginses were careful. They still had more in the sledge, but it was to be distributed to other families.

Before Farmer Button and his two sons left, Belladonna invited them into the _smial_, where they were given tea. Weak though it was, it was hot and welcome.

Bungo thanked them, his voice soft and weak, "It is kindly of you to think of us and of your neighbours; I appreciate your sharing the wood. I hope that you kept enough for your own families."

The old farmer blushed, the tips of his ears bright red, and he said, "Well, you're most welcome, Squire, sir. I know as how you'd've done the same if you'd had the wood to spare. And don't worrit for us-we kept as much as we brought away, sir, I promise." He looked at Bungo, and his brow creased in worry.

Bilbo escorted them to the door. Farmer Button turned and looked him in the eye. "Master Bilbo, how's your da, truly? He's a good Squire-I hate to think of aught a-happening to him?"

Bilbo swallowed hard, and put on his most grown-up face. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Button. My father has been ill, but Mistress Rose says he is stronger now than he was."

"Well, you be sure to let us know if there is aught we can do, Master Bilbo. The Master o' the Hill has allus taken care of everybody else. 'T is the least we can do to return the favour."

Bilbo watched the farmer drive the sledge down the Hill. He knew they were taking some of the firewood to Greenbriars, and he was glad, for it was hard to think about his little cousins Dora and Drogo shivering in the cold, and baby Dudo was still very weak. How lucky that the Button's old byre had chosen _this_ time to fall over!

_4 Rethe, S.R. 1312_

For the last few days, Bilbo and his family had spent most of their time sleeping in the parlour, only stirring for meals. "Like a sett of old badgers," Papa had said, in a now rare attempt at humour, "sleeping the cold weather away."

Bilbo was in the kitchen, helping his mother prepare a luncheon of thin soup, using the last of the dried vegetables left by the Tooks, when there came a rapping at the back door.

He gave the mixture in the pot on the hearth a stir and then went over to answer the door. It was Mag Twofoot.

Belladonna looked around as Bilbo opened the door. "Come in, Mag!" she said. "We were about to have lunch. Won't you join us?"

Mag blushed and stepped into the _smial_ "No thank you, Mrs. Baggins, ma'am. I just came by to ask Master Bilbo if he'd like to go ice fishing with us this evening. My mam was telling us how her nuncle from the Northfarthing used to go out and cut a hole in the ice and fish through it in the winter. We thought we'd go down to the Water and give it a try. Don't know as we'll catch anything, but we might, and a bit o' fish might be a good change."

Bilbo grinned. "I'd like that," he said.

Belladonna frowned. "On the ice? Is it safe?"

Mag nodded. "The ice is thick as thick, ma'am. Mam said her nuncle allus went at dusk, and usually had good luck."

After tea, Bilbo bundled up: leggings, sweater, jacket, scarf, coat, and hat. His father gave him a pair of leather gloves with no fingers, so that his hands would be warm but his fingers free to work. His mother tried to get him to wear his cloak as well, but Bilbo insisted it would be too awkward. He took his creel and some hooks and fishing line; Mag had told him not to bring a pole. "No casting into the ice hole. You just drop the line straight down. You can just use your hand or you can wrap the line around a short stick."

He headed down the lane, and soon met up with Mag, Jack and several other tweens similarly equipped. The lads had all brought with them a few cleverly carved and brightly painted wooden lures. They were rarely used in summer fishing, for worms and minnows were plentiful, but this winter they had none, and no one would waste meat as bait when they weren't sure they'd have a catch.

Mag and Jack had scouted out several spots upon the ice as likely, and now they went down to them. Jack used a long-handled chisel to chip away a tiny pilot hole in the ice, and then Jack use a saw to cut out a hole a little over a foot in diameter, then they moved on to another spot. "Two can fish in one hole," called out Mag.

Bilbo found himself sharing a hole with Herry, whom he'd not seen since before the wolf hunt. "How's your knee?"

"It's all right now. Still aches some, but I get around with it."

Bilbo wanted to ask more, but the look on Herry's face kept him from it. He applied the lure to his hook, wrapped the end of his line around his hand and dropped it in.

The Moon rose before the lads were ready to give up; He gave plenty of light with the snow below, but they were getting colder, and hungry. All of them had caught something, and Bilbo was pleased with the four perch in his creel. He could imagine how good they would smell as his mother roasted them in the embers on the hearth-or maybe she'd even spare a bit of meal and enough lard to fry them! The thought made his mouth water.

_25 Rethe, S.R. 1312_

Expeditions down to the Water had become more common as word of the lads' success became known. The fish was a welcome addition to the diets of those who had long before run out of meat.

But not all trips were successful. Bilbo was trudging back up the Hill with an empty creel, wondering if there would be any fish left in the water by winter's end, or even if winter ever _would_ end. They had a sunny day, and the Sun was still in the sky even now, but it seemed that the world was still dreary and white as far as he could see. He looked around, and sighed. White, white, white...

White with a hint of green? There, along the verge?

Bilbo gave a wordless shout, and darted over to look more closely. There, peeking up shyly through the cold blanket of snow were the first tiny blooms of snowdrops!

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: The deaths of Ponto Baggins, Largo Baggins and Lily Goodbody are all canon: Ponto died in 1311, and both Largo and Lily died in 1312. Pansy's date-of-death is not given, but she would have been 100 that winter and it is highly likely that she would not have survived given the circumstances. It was in fact, noticing this that made me begin to think of the events of the Fell Winter.


	20. Deep Roots Are Not Reached By the Frost

**Chapter 20: Deep Roots Are Not Reached By the Frost**

_Spring, S.R. 1312_

Though long delayed, when the spring of 1312 finally arrived, it did so quickly. Folk long kept indoors by the drear and deadly cold began to come outside to greet the Sun on her daily journey. Warmth seeped into bones that had not known warmth for months. It was on a day in Astron that Bilbo finally heard his mother laugh again. They were in the kitchen doing some long delayed spring cleaning. She was wiping out cupboards, he was scrubbing the hearth, and she laughed and said "Oh, my!"

"What's funny, Mama?" he asked, startled and overjoyed to hear the laughter he'd begun to think he'd never hear again.

Belladonna put her hand to her nose. "My nose is not cold, Bilbo-lad! My nose is warm! My nose hasn't been warm in six months! Whatever shall I do? I've forgotten what to do with a warm nose!"

Bilbo giggled at the silly face she made, and then both of them began to laugh, out of all proportion to the joke. Bungo came in-still pale and leaning on his cane, but looking better than he'd looked in a long time. He joined his family in the laughter as well, when he heard the jest, feeling of his own nose.

Bilbo felt his heart swell with a feeling of happiness he'd begun to think would never come again: his family was whole, and together, and things were getting better every day.

The Shire was still reeling; hobbits grieved for those lost to the winter's illnesses, and crops were late going into the ground. There were few stores left, and much livestock had also been lost. There were many hobbits, like his parents, whose health would never be quite what it had been before; but the Shire had come through the other side of the Fell Winter with persistence and generosity.

Now that things were popping up out of the ground, cupboards were less bare. The lads now took their poles to fish, and with pockets full of stones, would go out and come home with fish or with a brace of coneys or squirrels for the cooking pot. There were young dandelions and sorrel and wild onions and wild garlic to be found in the fields and mushrooms popping up in shady copses and under logs.

Bilbo was among the few lads daring enough to go seek out the bird's eggs in the nests high above the ground. He was careful not to raid every nest he found though-but it was nice to bring a few home to his parents. Every little bit helped until the crops began to come in. The year would still be lean, even if there was good fortune with this year's planting, for with spring so late, there'd be no time for summer crops this year.

In Thrimmidge, Bilbo took up his lessons once more. Before this, between the struggle to survive and his father's poor health, there had been no time for the sort of lessons that both Bilbo and his father had always enjoyed. Now there was once again time for Bungo and Bilbo to sit companionably in Bungo's study in the morning between elevenses and lunchtime, Bilbo's quill scratching away writing essays about the founding of the Shire, or using his slate to work complicated sums, while his father sat nearby reading and ready to answer Bilbo's questions. If his father nodded off sometimes during these sessions, Bilbo did not mind. He was simply glad to have his father there at all.

In Forelithe, Mistress Rose advised Bungo to begin to take short walks. "Not far, mind you, and stop to rest whenever you grow short of breath. For a couple of weeks, just take a stroll around your own garden. Then slowly venture a little further: down the Hill perhaps, if you can borrow a trap or something to come back up. I don't want you walking uphill just yet!" She also advised him to continue to take the tonics she had been giving him, and to keep the tincture of foxglove on hand. "Take a few drops if you feel too breathless or have pains in your chest," she said. Bungo made a face, but nodded, for he was too pleased with the chance to go outdoors once more to object to her restrictions.

That afternoon after luncheon, Bungo went out of Bag End's front door for the first time since he had received the letter from Overhill. Leaning on his cane, with Belladonna holding on to his other arm, and Bilbo hovering at his side, he stepped outside and took a deep breath. The day was warm enough, but not hot, and the air was filled with the smell of flowers. The herbaceous border was in bloom: columbine and forget-me-nots, geraniums and primroses, violas and pansies and pervinca, all lending their fragrance to the day.

The Bagginses walked slowly down the path to the gate by the road, and there they stopped, Bungo leaning against the gate to catch his breath.

"I can't believe," he said, "that I am so winded."

Belladonna patted his arm. "It's all right, dear. This is just the first time-it  
will get better!"

"I'm sure it will, Papa," Bilbo put in. "You'll see!"

Just then a voice made them all start: "Mr. Bungo! It's good to see you out and about agin, sir." They turned to see Tam Goodchild approaching with a barrow-load of mulch. "I didn't know as how you was able to come out!"

"Mistress Rose just gave me leave today, thank you, Tam! It's nice to see the garden looking so well."

"Though we got a late start, things are growing a-pace, Mr. Bungo. And not just the flowers out here-we'll be a-picking cucumbers and beans and such out o' the kitchen garden in just a few days."

Tam gave a tip of his cap, and moved on to his work, placing some mulch around some young bedding plants that had been planted around the sapling that would replace the tree lost in the ice storm.

Then Bilbo spotted the posthobbit coming up the lane, and he could not help a twinge of worry, and he saw his father grow pale. But Bungo stood his ground and Belladonna placed her hand upon her husband's arm and gave it a squeeze.

"Good day, Ned," Bungo said, "have you any letters for us then?"

"And a good day to you as well, sir," he replied as he sorted through a handful of letters. "Here you are!" He handed over two of them. "It's good to see you out again, Mr. Bungo!" and he was on his way, whistling cheerily.

Bungo handed one of the letters to Bilbo. "It's from Siggy!" he exclaimed.

The other was addressed to both Bungo and Belladonna in the Thain's distinctive and old-fashioned hand. "Shall we go in and take some tea, and read our post?" said Belladonna.

Bungo nodded, and the family made their way back into the smial.

In the kitchen, Bilbo put the teakettle on, while his mother put out some ginger biscuits, and soon they all sat around the table.

Bilbo opened his first:

_The Great Smials  
17 Forelithe, S.R. 1312_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Is your family coming for Lithe this year? I hope so! I really miss you. It's been almost a year since I've seen you and I do want to see you again. _

_Things had been pretty bleak around here. Everybody misses Grandmother dreadfully. Grandfather has moved into his study and won't come out. _

_Nobody knows if Gandalf will be here this summer, but everyone hopes he will and not just for the fireworks! Everybody is ever so grateful for his help this past winter. If he comes this year I will not even __touch__ his fireworks! Chop's coming. _

_He's trying to get a lass. He wants to court Periwinkle Goldworthy, but I hear she won't give him the time of day because he's been such a rascal in the past. _

_Well, I hope I will see you soon! Please write me back! _

_Love, _

_Your cousin,  
Siggy_

Bilbo looked up at his parents. "Are we going?" he asked.

"Let us see what your grandfather has to say, shall we, son," his mother replied. Bungo handed her Gerontius' letter, and she slipped her thumb beneath the seal to open it. She scanned it quickly, and then, clearing her throat began to read aloud:

_The Great Smials  
17 Forelithe, S.R. 1312_

_My darling daughter and family, _

_As you know, Midsummer rapidly approaches. I do hope that you will be able to come to visit for Lithe this year. It has been very nearly a year since I have seen any of your family. _

_Mirabella will be coming, although Gorbadoc will be detained in Buckland. He has only been Master a couple of years, and Buckland has not recovered quite so quickly as the rest of the Shire from the Fell Winter, as people are now calling it. _

_I know Isumbras would be glad of your advice. Young Fortinbras has begun courting a lass, and he and Carnation have reservations about her, and so, I confess do I. There's no question of a betrothal yet-she's rather young even for an informal courtship, though as you know those of the Southfarthing are rather more lax than the rest of the Shire in such matters. She's a Clayhanger, with connexions among the Bracegirdles and the Sackvilles. She's a handsome lass named Lalia, and Fortinbras can't stop singing her praises. _

_I do hope that my concerns are groundless, yet I cannot help but remember your brother Hildifons and the results of his disappointment in love with that Sackville chit. We don't wish him to break his heart over her, and yet we also do not wish to drive her away if she is truly fond of him and he of her. _

_How are all of you doing? I hope you have all recovered well from your illness, and that things in Hobbiton are prospering. _

_Love to you all,  
Father"_

"Are we going?" Bilbo asked anxiously. He was quite excited at the thought of seeing his Took relatives again.

Belladonna looked at Bungo. "I don't know. Are you up to the journey, dear?" she asked.

"We will have to see what Mistress Rose says," was his answer. "But even if I am not, I would like to see you and Bilbo go."

And that, it turned out, was how it went. Mistress Rose did not think Bungo would be up to such a journey. It was arranged for Jack Twofoot to come and stay at Bag End to help out around the smial, and his mother would come in to fix suppers. Fosco and Ruby agreed to look in on him while Belladonna and Bilbo were gone.

On the last Trewsday of Afterlithe, the driver hired from _The Ivy Bush_ loaded Belladonna's and Bilbo's luggage into the pony trap, and carried the two of them off to the Great Smials.

It would be their only visit to the Tooklands for the next three years.


	21. You Are Cordially Invited

**You Are Cordially Invited, Part One  
**

_8 Astron, S.R. 1315_

"Are we going?" Bilbo hung over his mother's shoulder as she read the Invitation. His voice was wistful, as though he knew the answer would probably be "no".

_6 Astron, S.R. 1315 Whitwell_

_Dear Bungo and Belladonna,_

_You, and your son Bilbo, are hereby cordially invited to attend the Wedding of your Nephew, Adalgrim, and his Betrothed, Periwinkle Goldworthy._

_The Wedding will take place at Noon, on the fourth day of Forelithe, at the home of the Groom's Parents, Hildigrim and Rosa Took at the Great Smials._

_Please let us know as soon as possible if you will be attending._

_Cordially yours,_

_Lettice Goldworthy, Cousin of the Bride_

Belladonna was silent. She wished to go as well; but she had found that she did not care to be apart from Bungo, and he'd not been up to travelling since the Fell Winter. She did not want her voice to betray her. It would hurt him dreadfully to know that she would stay home on his account.

Bungo glanced up from his own letter from his factor in Bywater. "I've been feeling much better lately, my dear. If Mistress Rose approves, then I think we should all go. I must confess I have missed the, er, bustle, of the Great Smials. And I should like to see your father again."

Bilbo gave a whoop of joy, but Belladonna patted his hand. She smiled at her husband. "Well, we shall see what Mistress Rose says."

It turned out that Mistress Rose thought the change would do Bungo good. "Mind you, travel the long way round, not by the Post Road and stop over in Waymeet!"

And so it was that Belladonna penned the family's acceptance, provisionally, for she still feared Bungo might have a turn for the worse.

_Dear Periwinkle,_

_We are very pleased to hear of your upcoming wedding to our beloved nephew Adalgrim, and the three of us will be happy to attend, if Bungo's health allows._

_Please accept our heartiest best wishes upon your impending nuptials, and we look forward to meeting you at the ceremony._

_We plan to arrive at the Great Smials by the first of Forelithe, to be in time for your Sitting for the Gifts._

_Affectionately yours,_

_Belladonna, Bungo and Bilbo Baggins_

Instead of a pony trap, the Bagginses hired a coach from _The Ivy Bush_, as well as young Jackdaw Twofoot to drive it for them. In the past, Bungo had always driven the pony trap, but Mistress Rose advised him against the exertion of driving; Bilbo had offered to drive, but his mother suggested the coach and driver instead. "Your father and I will be far more comfortable in the coach," she said. "And if you wish and the weather is fine, you may ride up front with Jack."

Bilbo was beyond excitement over the journey; while Siggy had paid the Bagginses a brief visit with his parents last year, he'd not seen any other Took relatives since he and his mother had gone to the Great Smials the summer after the Fell Winter. There had been letters-he had a few from Chop, most of them singing the praises of his Periwinkle, and of course he and Siggy kept up a lively correspondence. But it wasn't the same as seeing them. He missed his grandfather as well, for all of Gerontius' letters were to the family as a whole, and not just to Bilbo.

Jack and Bilbo loaded the luggage into the coach, and then Jack assisted the two older Bagginses into it. Bilbo felt a wave of concern to notice how heavily his father was breathing after only the light exertion of entering the coach, and how pale his mother was after she was finally seated. How frail they were now! But he shook his head. No gloomy thoughts! They were off to a fine and happy occasion. He clambered up to the driver's seat, and grinned at Jack when he joined him. Jack took up the reins and gave them a pull and a shake, and the four smart black ponies that pulled the coach set off. They first had to go southeast to Bywater to meet the Road at the Three-Farthing Stone, and then they turned West towards Waymeet, a journey of some twenty-five miles.

Bilbo had been quite young when the family had last been to Waymeet, and he recalled little of the route there, so the scenery was all new to him. He gazed about and he and Jack talked-Jack had _never_been to Waymeet at all, and he was as pleased as punch that the Squire's family had chosen him as a driver! The two lads found much to talk about as the coach rolled along. Bilbo felt as though he were on top of the world in his high seat looking down.

About halfway there, Bilbo's mother shouted through the coach window, and asked Jack to find a spot to pull over. She had packed a basket that would serve them all as a late elevenses or an early luncheon. Jack spotted a grassy verge beneath the shade of a large apple tree. The tree grew on the other side of a meadow and overhung the rail fence that ran parallel to the Road. Bilbo spread a blanket on the ground and fetched the cushions for his parents out of the back of the coach. The hobbits enjoyed their picnic as the ponies cropped the grass. After a light repast of chicken, boiled eggs, bread, cheese, pickles and small cakes, of which not a crumb was left, they returned to the coach and drove on.

His mother handed him a small sack of gingersnaps before he and Jack had climbed up again, for she knew that it would be past teatime before they finally stopped at the inn in Waymeet.

The two talked a while, and then as hobbits of all stations enjoy, began to play at a game of riddles. Jack started it with an old familiar:

_A box without hinges, key, or lid,  
Yet golden treasure inside is hid_*

Bilbo grinned. It was traditional to start with a really easy one. "Egg", he answered, and then offered up his own.

_White above, brown below  
Only in the dark I grow,  
A fine treasure  
For your pleasure._

Jack chuckled. "Mushrooms. I wisht we had some now."

Bilbo patted his stomach. "So do I."

Jack thought for a minute, as he tried to remember all of a riddle he'd heard from his uncle from Needlehole. Bilbo thought he had given up when Jack finally spoke:

_Comes in one color, but not one size,  
stuck at the bottom, and yet it flies;  
found in sunshine, but not in rain;  
never does harm, and never feels pain._

Bilbo pursed his lips and thought hard. What could it be? He'd never heard this one at all before.

Jack grinned and gave him a sideways look, and began to whistle.

"'Stuck at the bottom...found in sunshine'...no...no, that's in rain, too," He began to look down at the road as they drove and just then the Sun hid herself behind a cloud, and the sky darkened slightly..."Shadow!" he shouted. "That was a good one, Jack! But then I noticed our shadow on the Road." He thought briefly, and then remembered one he had heard from Uncle Gorbadoc once:

_I run but never walk;  
I have a mouth but never talk;  
I have a bed but never lie;  
What am I?_

Now it was Jack's turn to be stumped. He thought and thought, and finally said, "I will have to give up, Master Bilbo! I just can't think of the answer!"

Bilbo smiled smugly. "A river!" he said.

"Oh, I'll have to remember that one, Master Bilbo. That's a really good one, that's a stumper that is!"

The two sang a few songs, and then grew silent. Bilbo was getting tired, for they had left quite early; he must have nodded off for a while, because suddenly Jack elbowed him. "Master Bilbo! Look, I think we are at Waymeet!"

They were on the downside of a long low hill, and the village was spread out before them. Waymeet was more of a town than a village, a little bigger than Hobbiton, for it truly was where several roads met, and so much business was conducted there. Bilbo noticed there were many more houses visible than _smials_. Soon they came to the four-way crossing, where the North-South Road crossed the Great East-West Road. While the East-West Road continued straight on, the road to the north and to the south angled to the west at the crossroads. There were three inns: _The Golden Mushroom, The Sleepy Badger,_ and _The Running Fox_.

"Mrs. Belladonna said _The Golden Mushroom_," said Jack, as he drove the coach towards that establishment.

Bilbo nodded. "Mama said it was the largest and most well-appointed." He looked it over-it certainly was prosperous, with its wide stone and half-timbered wings stretching out from the center to form a courtyard, partially bounded on the fourth by a large stable. The whitewash gleamed in the Sun, and the thatch looked like spun gold. The round door was not painted but stained a golden brown, and there was a beautiful mushroom carved right into it, just above the shining brass doorknob in the center. Another carving of a mushroom hung from the eaves, with a small sign hung from it by two short chains. The sign said "_The Golden Mushroom_est. S.R. 1071, G. Gawkrogers, prop."

Jack and Bilbo climbed down and opened the doors to help Belladonna and Bungo out. Hobbit grooms came running to take the coach and ponies, and other hobbits came to assist with the luggage. They were greeted by a cheerfully plump hobbitess with a mass of grey curls and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose. She kept up a cheerful chatter as she showed them to a large and well appointed room. In one corner a large screen had been set up, and Bilbo glimpsed the edge of a copper tub behind it. There was a large bed, with a smaller one tucked beneath it on wheeled legs, and by the hearth a small mattress lay upon the floor with a blanket covering it.

"As you asked for, Mrs. Baggins, a trundle for your son and a pallet for your driver. You are too late for tea, but we can have an early supper sent to your room, and then bring your baths, or you can have your baths now and take supper in the common room."

Belladonna chose to have the early supper sent to the room. Bilbo found he was disappointed, for he wanted to see more of the inn than just their room, however nicely appointed it was. Usually when the family had travelled they had stayed with relatives; an inn was a novelty to him.

But of course his father was not up to that. He could see that Bungo was very tired.

However, all of them were considerably revived when the maidservant tapped on the door, and then wheeled in a trolley laden with covered dishes and plates and cups and a steaming teapot. There was a little table in the room with four chairs, and the maidservant began to lay the table. Jack made a feeble protest about eating with them, but Bilbo's mother just waved that aside. "Of course you will eat with us, Jackdaw! I promised your parents to take good care of you on this journey!" she said firmly.

So they all sat down to a nice supper of leek soup, a pot roast with mushrooms, potatoes, carrots, parsnips and onions, bread, cheese, butter and honey, and a plate of strawberry tarts. The fare went a long way towards erasing Bilbo's disappointment about exploring the inn!

After the meal, Jack and Bilbo went out—Jack to check the ponies and make sure the coach would be all right for the next day's travel, and Bilbo to give his parents some privacy for their baths. He went to the stables with Jack, and then they strolled up the road a short distance before turning back.

The water was warm, but not hot, by the time Bilbo got his own bath, and it was no more than lukewarm by the time Jack got to it.

But Bilbo thought if felt good to be clean of the dust of travel, and while the truckle bed was not so comfortable as his own bed at home, he soon was sleeping soundly.

xxxxx

*The first riddle, is of course, found in _The Hobbit, Chapter V, "Riddles in the Dark"_, but the others are well-known traditional riddles, slightly altered to be more hobbity.


	22. Afternoon at the Great Smials

**Author's Note:** At last an update! I had prepared part of this chapter long ago, and then had to put it aside for other things; it took me a while to get back into the story and finish the chapter. I do hope that future updates will not be so far apart.

**Chapter 22: Afternoon at the Great Smials**

They made good time the next day, eating the food they had brought with them in the coach, except for a stop for lunch in Whitwell at _The Wandering Wizard_. They arrived at the village (which carried the same name as the Tooks' farm on its outskirts) where they treated themselves to the inn's famous chicken and mushroom pie, said to be a favourite of old Gandalf when he came to the Shire at midsummer. But they were travelling again by half-past one, and arrived at the Great Smials before teatime.

Jack drove the coach up the long curving drive that swept past the Great Doors at the front of the immense dwelling. They were not the only ones to have arrived in so timely a fashion; a carriage was pulling away from the front steps as Jack pulled up.

A servant came up and opened the door, helping the Bagginses to alight. "Welcome, Mistress Belladonna, Mr. Bungo, Master Bilbo," he said.

"Thank you, Mat," Bella responded. Mat and another servant soon had the Bagginses' travelling cases down, and Jack was directed to the stables with the coach and the ponies. There were quite nice sleeping quarters for visiting drivers provided above the stables, and it was there that Jackdaw would stay until it was time for the Bagginses to go home.

Bella, Bungo and Bilbo went inside to go and find Grandfather Gerontius in his study. He rarely left it these days; he had moved into it after the death of his beloved Adamanta, for he could not bear to remain in their rooms which reminded him of her so much.

There they discovered that those who had arrived just before them were Belladonna's sister Mirabella Brandybuck and her husband Gorbadoc. Bilbo was pleased to see their oldest son, eleven-year-old Rory at his parents' side. But he wondered where his younger cousins were, a question his mother also wondered about, for after embracing her father, she asked her sister: "Where are the little ones, Mira?"

"We judged them too young for such an occasion as a wedding. They are home at Brandy Hall with their aunts."

Rory's face lit up at the sight of his cousin Bilbo, and he immediately came over to hug him. "Bilbo! I'm so glad you came!"

Bilbo ruffled the younger hobbit's curls, and chuckled. "I'm glad to see you as well, Rory!"

At his mother's gesture, Bilbo went over to the armchair by the hearth to greet and embrace his grandfather. He was dismayed to see how frail the Old Took looked. "I am glad to see you, Grandfather," he said, placing a kiss on the old hobbit's forehead.

Gerontius pulled him down and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I am glad to see you as well, my lad." He smiled faintly, and patted Bilbo's arm.

His duty done, Bilbo turned to his parents. "Where is Chop?" he asked.

His Aunt Mirabella answered. "Adalgrim and Periwinkle are in the East parlour, sitting for their gifts. We thought we'd go along there to present ours in a few minutes."

Bella nodded. "You go right along! I think that we will go to our rooms and freshen up and rest a little before we bring our gift to them." She glanced over at Bungo, who had sat down on the sofa, and was looking somewhat pale.

The Brandybucks looked in Bungo's direction, and nodded. "We shall see you at tea in the family apartments then?"

Bilbo looked at his parents-he knew his father would probably need to take a nap before teatime, but he did not feel the need to rest. "Mama, may I stay with Rory?"

Rory's little face lit up. "Yes, please, please, Aunt Bella! Do say yes-I haven't seen Bilbo in _ever_ so long!"

Bella nodded, "If it is all right with Aunt Mira and Uncle Gorbadoc, then you may."

Assent granted all around, Bilbo followed his aunt and uncle back down the passageway that led to the East parlour-one of the three common parlours found in the Great Smials (there had once been four, but the West parlour had been removed in the building of the Ballroom on the southwest side of the Smials). He noted the package his uncle carried: a white box, tied up with a large blue ribbon, and he realised that must be their gift for the couple. Bilbo was curious about the gift, but he was more curious about his cousin's bride. Chop had written to him frequently, and his letters were often full of his intended's praises. But he had never met her, and he wondered what she was like.

In the parlour he saw Chop on the sofa by the hearth; next to him was a lass and by how closely they sat and the way their hands were entwined, Bilbo knew that she must be Periwinkle. She had soft brown curls spilling down her shoulders and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

A matronly hobbit sat across from them; she bore a great resemblance to the lass on the sofa, and Aunt Mirabella addressed her as "Mrs. Goldworthy", so Bilbo guessed that she must be Periwinkle's mother.

He wanted to greet Chop, but was shy of doing so in the presence of his cousin's betrothed. He and Rory hung back, and Aunt Mira and Uncle Gorbadoc went to hand them their gift.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Adalgrim," Aunt Mira responded. "Now don't be shy! Open it!"

The young couple placed the box between them, and Periwinkle pulled on the ribbon to untie the bow. She lifted out the item, which turned out to be a teapot, with some sort of scene painted on the side. She gasped. "Oh, Adalgrim!" she said. "Look!"

Bilbo and Rory moved closer out of curiosity: the scene painted on the teapot was of a little farmstead, and Bilbo realised that it was of the farm at Whitwell.

"Thank you so much, Aunt Mirabella and Uncle Gorbadoc!" Chop exclaimed. "It's wonderful!"

Bilbo and Rory looked at one another, and then at their older cousin. It certainly did not seem at _all_ like the mischievous cousin Chop they had always known, to be so pleased at a teapot, of all things! Rory scowled at Periwinkle, and Bilbo elbowed him in the side.

Mrs. Goldworthy took the gift to put it away-it would not do to leave it where other visitors could see, and perhaps compare it to their own gifts. She put it inside a cupboard that stood next to the hearth.

The Brandybucks left the room soon after, for there might be others wishing to bring their gifts. As soon as they were out of the room, Rory pulled on Bilbo, drawing him down to hiss in his ear: "What's the matter with Chop? What's that lass done to him?"

But he did not hiss quietly enough. His mother laughed. "Nothing is the matter with Adalgrim, Rory, save that he has grown up and he is in love."

Little Rory looked doubtful, but Bilbo wondered. He'd had many letters over the years from his older cousin, and had learned how the Goldworthy family had helped the young Took through the Fell Winter on the farm at Whitwell, how Periwinkle had helped to nurse his cousin through his own illness, and then been ill herself. His letters after that had been much more serious than before, though Chop still had a sense of humour. But it was more in the nature of funny stories in his letters, not tales of his own exploits and japes.

Be he himself had been more serious too, after that terrible time. Perhaps it wasn't just the being in love, or even the growing up, but having to deal with terrible times as well.

"Bilbo! Rory!"

Siggy's voice echoing down the corridor jolted Bilbo out of his thoughts, and he ran to greet his dearest friend, with Rory at his heels.

"It's teatime," Siggy said. "Mother sent me off to let you know!" He looked up at the adult Brandybucks. "We are having tea in the family quarters."

Bilbo followed his friends as they went back the way he had come earlier. "Siggy, Chop is acting so grown-up I hardly know him," he said.

Siggy shook his head. "Don't call him 'Chop' anymore!" he said. "Miss Periwinkle Goldworthy does not approve of that name." He put on high falsetto voice. "_'It's such a silly name, Adalgrim, dear! You should not even answer to it'_"

Bilbo looked alarmed at this, and little Rory looked utterly horrified. "Not call him Chop anymore?"

"No," Siggy said firmly. But just then they reached the wing which was occupied by the Thain's immediate family. There was a large sitting room, a private dining room, a small kitchen, two bathing rooms and a water closet, and any number of bedrooms in this section of the Great Smials. The Thain's study was also located there, but he would not be coming out to join the rest of the family. Someone (usually his middle daughter Donnamira) would bring his meals to him and sit with him as he ate. But there were two tea trolleys set up, and tea was presided over by Uncle Isengrim, who had taken over a number of his father's duties.

Bilbo was pleased to see both his parents there, his father looking much refreshed after a brief rest. He helped himself to a plate of biscuits, scones and cucumber sandwiches and tea, and joined them on one of the several settees scattered about the room. A few minutes later, Adalgrim, his betrothed and her mother entered the room, and were pleasantly greeted.

Belladonna smiled. "They are through with their sitting for the day," she said. "We shall take them our gifts tomorrow."

After tea had been eaten, Siggy and Flambard (who was slightly older) and some other lads-various Took cousins as well as some of the guests who'd come for the wedding-came over and collected Bilbo to join them on the South Lawn for a game of "Breakthrough" before supper. The bride's younger brother Porro turned out to be about the same age as Bilbo and Siggy. Flambard was designated as one team captain, and Porro was the other.

Bilbo had hoped he would be on the same team with Siggy, but Porro called Siggy to his team, and Flambard called Bilbo to his. The older lads were quickly picked and soon only a few of the younger lads were left. Rory was called to Flambard's team. There were six lads on each side when they finished. Bilbo was relieved that they had even numbers, otherwise someone might have been left out.

Fortunately the South Lawn was fairly smooth and level; each team formed a line facing the other-they were about a rod and a half apart-and held hands, stretching apart. Bilbo's team was on the East side and the other team was on the West. Bilbo was on one end, with young Rory on his left. Since Flambard was the eldest, he got to make the first call.

_"West to East, East to West  
Whose team is the best?  
Send Ducky over to make the test!"_

"Ducky" was cousin Hildigar, (so called because all during his _faunthood_ he was never to be seen without his toy duck, which he pulled behind him on a string) who was one of the younger lads-though he was a little older than Rory. Ducky dropped the hands of his teammate, backed up a little and came running as fast as he could. Bilbo set his feet and tightened his grip on Rory, but Ducky aimed between Flambard and another lad whom Bilbo had only just met, a cousin of the bride, he thought. Their hands held and so Ducky added himself to the end of their line next to Rory.

It was Porro's turn now, and to Bilbo's surprise, his own name was called. He put his head down and ran as hard as he could, aiming between Porro and Siggy. To his own surprise, he broke right through. He grabbed Siggy and brought him back over to his own team, where they both joined the end of the line.

The game was fun, and the two teams had gone back and forth several times. Porro was no longer captain of the West team, for the East team had captured him. West was ahead when one of the servants came out to call the lads in to get ready for supper.

With a glad shout all of them dropped hands and raced for the smials, to wash up and change their clothes.

Bilbo entered the main dining room with his parents and scanned the tables set aside for children and tweens; his parents would be sitting at the high table with his aunts and uncles and some of the important guests. He spotted Siggy, who was frantically waving his hand, and pointing to the empty chair next to him. Belladonna smiled and nodded for him to go ahead, as she and Drogo made for their own places.

Sliding into the chair, Bilbo looked at Siggy and grinned. "Thanks!" he said. He noticed that Porro sat across from them, and next to him was a dark-haired lass he did not know.

"This is my sister, Pomona," Porro said. "Pom, this is Bilbo Baggins, one of Adalgrim's first cousins."

Bilbo blushed. "At your service," he said politely. He was not used to speaking to lasses.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Bilbo. You must be related on your mother's side?"

This was safe ground. "Yes; my mother is Hildigrim's sister Belladonna; my father is Bungo Baggins of Hobbiton."

Just then the servants came to set food on the table, and conversation was forgotten for a while. Bilbo heaped his plate with slices of ham, roasted young potatoes, peas cooked with little onions, mushrooms and bread and butter. The mushrooms only made it around the table once, but he was able to have seconds and thirds of everything else. With several young tweens at the table, there was not a crumb of anything left, and some servants came to take away the dirty plates while others brought dishes of strawberries and clotted cream for afters, and a platter of cheese and fruit for the filling up of corners.

Bilbo was nibbling on a slice of pear with a little sharp cheese, and wondering if he wanted any more or not (his mouth said "yes" but his stomach was saying "no!") and he rather thought he'd listen to his stomach. He was of no mind to be up half the night with a stomachache drinking ginger tea.

Siggy had already finished and was sipping at his water. He turned to Bilbo, and said in a low voice, "You know, we need to find a good prank to play on Chop-I mean, Adalgrim."

Bilbo gaped at his cousin. That would never have occurred to him. "Why?" Chop had always been the ringleader when the cousins got into mischief together. He could not imagine his older cousin being the object of the joke.

"Well, he's going to be having fun this week without us!" said Siggy.

"Siggy!" Bilbo turned beet red, shocked.

Siggy turned red as well. "I didn't mean _that_! I mean-the older cousins and uncles will be taking him to the inns for ale and beer and you know they won't include us, because they will all mean to get drunk!"

"Oh." Bilbo nodded. At twenty-five, he and Siggy were still considered too young for that sort of thing. They could go to the inns, and even have ale-but at their age they were restricted to a half, no more. "So, what do you want to do to him? If we do anything it needs to be something good."

"It needs to be something Ch-I mean, Adalgrim-has never thought up himself."

Bilbo nodded. This was going to take some serious thinking.


	23. On the Giving of Wedding Gifts

**Chapter 23: On the Giving of Wedding Gifts**

The next morning after second breakfast, Bilbo followed his parents back to the East parlour where once more Adalgrim and Periwinkle would be awaiting their gifts. Bilbo was carrying the rather large softish package, which was wrapped in muslin and tied with a blue ribbon. Bungo walked next to his wife, using his cane, and one would not have to look very closely to perceive that his arm was supported by his wife's hand rather than the other way around.

Bilbo hoped that the bride would like the gifts; his mother had worked on them for a long time. He knew that Chop would love them just because of who they were from-his cousin had always had a soft spot for his Aunt Bella. But he didn't know if Periwinkle would be the sort of lass who would appreciate it. He was quite prepared to bristle on his mother's behalf if she did not.

They found the couple sitting once more on the settee. In addition to Periwinkle's mother, he saw that her sister Pomona was also there, though not her brother Porro. Pomona smiled at him, and gave an almost imperceptible wave when she saw him. Bilbo blushed, but did not otherwise respond. This was a formal gift presentation, and the young people weren't to speak unless spoken to.

Adalgrim stood up to greet his aunt and uncle, giving Belladonna a fond peck on the cheek and patting his Uncle Bungo on the back. He grinned and winked at Bilbo, and said "Hello, Cousin Bilbo." Bilbo smiled and returned the greeting; his parents were sitting down, and his mother gave a nod.

Ordinarily one of his parents would have presented it, but Bungo had needed to sit, and so his mother had told him he would be the one to hand the present over.

Adalgrim took the package, and then sat down to show his betrothed. Together they untied the ribbon, and pulled the folded muslin away.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Periwinkle. She lifted out the two items on the top, delicately crocheted doilies sized to fit on top of nightstands. Then there were two linen pillowslips trimmed in crocheted lace that matched the doilies, and finally, a pieced coverlet also trimmed in matching lace. "Oh, this is _lovely_ work! Did you make this yourself, Mrs. Baggins?"

Bilbo felt gratified at her obvious appreciation of his mother's work, and he started to warm a little to his cousin's intended.

Belladonna smiled. "You must call me 'Aunt Bella', dear, as we are soon to be family! Yes, I did indeed make this set."

Her mother and sister came over to inspect the gifts, before the mother took them to lock up in the gifts cabinet. Pomona touched the lace of one of the doilies reverently. "I wish I knew how to do that!" she exclaimed.

Mrs. Goldworthy chuckled. "I am afraid I am quite hopeless with a crochet hook," she said. "I've never been very good at fancy work, though I can do plain sewing, and can knit only just well enough to make a plain scarf. So I've never had the chance to teach my lasses."

Bilbo's mother laughed. "Well, there are a number of things that I am hopeless at as well. But as for crochet, if you lasses would like to learn and have the time while I am here, I can teach you the basic stitches."

"I should like that very much indeed!" said Pomona.

The two families spoke for just a little longer, until the next well-wisher bearing gifts knocked upon the door. So the Bagginses took their leave, and made room for another family to enter.

Finished with social obligations for the time being, Bilbo went off to find Siggy. Siggy had collected Porro and Rory already, and the lads after brief consultation decided to take fishing poles and a picnic for elevenses and maybe luncheon, and go down to the duck pond to fish.

"But you have to _promise_, Rory, to stay _out_ of the water!" said Bilbo firmly.

"I will," the young Brandybuck said, though he looked somewhat downcast. "Mum said I had to promise as well. She said she didn't bring nearly enough changes of clothing for me to be falling in the water all the time."

The other lads laughed, and then went to one of the smaller kitchens to beg a hamper from the cooks, and a few scraps of offal to use as bait. They'd collect some fishing poles from a shack that stood near the duck pond, and kept there for visitors.

Bilbo caught several fish, but only one perch that was big enough to keep. Porro likewise only caught one, and Siggy caught two. Little Rory surpassed them all with four good-sized fish. The lads ate and drank from the hamper as their bellies spoke to them, and when they had eaten all the food, the lads decided to quit for the day. They carried the catch back to the same kitchen where they had been given the hamper, and returned the empty basket.

Porro decided to go look for his sister, and Rory was collected by his mother, who tutted at the state of his clothes, for while he had not been in the water, he had managed to get wet from the fish-and there were bait stains on his shirt as well. Aunt Mirabella hauled him off muttering.

Bilbo and Siggy had put a few pears in their pockets to tide them over until teatime, and decided to go to Siggy's room to talk. They sprawled on top of Siggy's bed.

"Yes! Maybe that will give us some ideas!" And Bilbo was not at all averse to seeing his second favorite cousin and having a chance to talk with him before matrimony changed everything.

"We could steal his smallclothes."

Siggy shook his head. "No. He did that to cousin Isembard just a few months ago. What about an apple-pie bed*? We could slip in and do that during the dancing after the wedding feast."

"That would hardly be fair to his bride," said Bilbo. While he was still dubious about her influence over Chop, he was feeling more kindly to her now that he'd had a chance to see more of her. She seemed very nice.

For an instant, Siggy looked like he did not really care, and then he heaved a sigh and said, "Oh, I suppose you're right. We could lock him in his room the night before, so he can't get out and go off with the others."

Bilbo considered for a moment, before saying, "No, he'd just climb out the window. Besides you know Cousin Fortinbras will be practically glued to his side until the wedding, since he's standing witness."

"It needs to be something that he's never done, anyway. And it should be something that he'd never expect, and that would inconvenience only him."

"_And," _Bilbo added emphatically, "it needs to be something that's funny-and that he will think was funny when he gets over being angry. Because if not, he is very likely to stay angry. And if he figures out it was us while he's angry, he is likely to think of something really nasty to get back at us."

Both lads were silent as they thought over the implications of that. Chop had always been very clever in getting revenge on anyone who dared make him the target of their japes.

"Well, if we are clever, perhaps he won't figure it out," said Siggy.

Bilbo looked at him, and Siggy shrugged. "Still," said Bilbo, "it needs to be funny as well." The two lads leaned against the head of the bed, their hands locked behind their heads, their legs stretched out in front as they thought.

Finally Bilbo broke the silence. "We need to get a look at Chop's room-"

"Adalgrim," said Siggy morosely.

"Chop's room," Bilbo repeated emphatically. "Then perhaps something will come to us. I want our last prank on him to be a gift he will always remember."

"Why don't we call on him after tea?" said Siggy. "He wouldn't be surprised if we went to see him, after all, for we've scarcely had a chance to visit with him since you got here."

"Yes! Maybe that will give us some ideas!" And Bilbo was not at all averse to seeing his second favorite cousin and having a chance to talk with him before matrimony changed everything.

xxxxxxx

*Apple-pie bed: what a shortsheeted bed in which a sheet is folded back on itself halfway down as a practical joke so that the victim cannot get into it is called in the UK.


	24. One Eye on the Mirror

**Chapter 24: One Eye on the Mirror as You Watched Yourself Go By**

After tea, the two lads headed down the corridor to Chop's room-it was the same room in his parents' quarters where their cousin had slept when he was growing up until his antics had finally caused his grandfather to send him off to Whitwell.

"Do you suppose he'll be there?" asked Bilbo. "He might be off with his intended this afternoon!"

Siggy shook his head. "I had it from Porro that both his sisters would be at a tea party just for the lasses to honour the bride one last time."

"Good! Then maybe he will be home after all."

In fact he was, and it was Adalgrim himself who answered the door. His father was there, and Bilbo and Siggy greeted their Uncle Hildigrim who sat in the parlour reading and smoking; Aunt Rosa was gone. She too, was at the party in honour of the bride.

"Come on back to my room then, you two," said Adalgrim. They followed him in and he sprawled in his armchair by the hearth, while Siggy and Bilbo flopped on the rug.

"Are your bones too old to sit on the floor anymore, Ch-Adalgrim?" Siggy laughed.

Adalgrim winced and sighed. "It's hard to get used to a new name," he said. "And, no, I'm not too old. But I'll be meeting Periwinkle at supper, and I certainly don't wish to be all dusty and wrinkled from sitting on the floor!"

"Why do you let her tell you what name you'll be called?" asked Bilbo. Perhaps because he asked the question from simple curiosity and without any hint of resentment, his older cousin didn't snap at him, but looked thoughtful.

"I know I've written to you a little about Periwinkle, and how we met. But I don't think you know the whole story, do you?"

Bilbo and Siggy shook their heads, surprised at his serious tone.

"I know that you met after Grandfather sent you to Whitwell," said Siggy.

"And that you, er, fell in love with her during the Fell Winter," Bilbo added.

Adalgrim chuckled. "Yes, I did fall in love with her during the Fell Winter. But it took longer for her to fall in love with me." He stared at his cousins silently for a while, and Bilbo was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable at his regard, when he spoke again. "Both of you are so much younger that I didn't think you'd understand, but I think now that you are old enough to hear the story-and you've both been my friends for so long, I think you deserve to know why the 'Chop' you grew up with has tried so hard to change.

"The Goldworthy family were the caretakers for the farm for many years before Grandfather sent me here. They didn't live in the farmhouse-in fact they had their own smaller farm that was adjacent to Whitwell, and they tended both farms. I know you've met Periwinkle's younger sibs, Porro and Pomona, but she also has two older brothers-Pando and Picco, who help their father with both farms. They haven't arrived here yet. They'll be here the day before, because they've stayed behind to run things until then. Both of them are already wed, and Pando already has children.

"I was wise enough to know that I did not have any idea of what it took to run a farm. I'd done my share of helping at planting and harvest, like any other hobbit lad. But the daily tasks needed to get by were beyond my ken. Farmer Goldworthy knew that Grandfather would count on him to help me, and to teach me what I needed to know.

"Without him I would have been lost, for you know what happened that first year..."

His voice trailed off, and the three cousins shuddered briefly, in memory of that Fell Winter.

"I fell ill shortly before Yule. I was dreadfully sick...well, you know how it was. Mrs. Goldworthy and Periwinkle came to me, and the two of them nursed me through the worst of it. When I would wake up to see her kind brown eyes and her worried smile as she would try to reassure me-well, it didn't take long for me to fall for her.

"But when I got well, and tried to pursue a courtship with her, she told me 'It's just gratitude, Mr. Adalgrim. I don't think you are really in love with me.' She shook her head at my protests, and she told me she didn't think I was serious enough to fall in love!

"I'd never had a lass turn me down before!" Adalgrim's expression as he said this was still rueful and surprised. He was quite handsome, with the Tookish green eyes and chestnut hair, and he was endowed with not a small amount of native charm. Add to that his position as a grandson of the Old Took, and he'd had a bevy of lasses to admire (and even pursue) him ever since he entered his tweens. To have the one lass i_he_/i found interesting turn him down must have been a shock.

Bilbo and Siggy exchanged a look, rolling their eyes, and then they both burst out laughing. "Poor old Chop!" Siggy exclaimed. "You set your sights on the one lass in the Shire who wouldn't return your interest!"

Adalgrim gave them a put-upon look. "Do you want to hear the story, or not?" They nodded.

"I got well, and things were pretty busy as we tried to keep things going while the winter went on-and then there was the news of Grandmother, and I managed to make my way to the Great Smials after I received the word. And then the wolves came..." He shuddered, and Bilbo and Siggy nodded sympathetically. Both of them remembered those days all too well.

"So I went off with the muster, and you know how that went, and when I finally got back, it was to discover that now Periwinkle was ill! At first, her family did not want me to help with nursing her, but then both Porro and Pomona fell sick as well. So I was able to help care for her, and her sister and brother as well. It was not easy, but we got through it, and everyone recovered."

"After that, Periwinkle decided that I might really _be_ serious about _her_, but she wasn't sure I was serious enough to be a husband. It's taken a long time to convince her that I'm no longer the scamp and scapegrace that Grandfather sent away so I wouldn't be a bad example to the likes of you two!" He gave a laugh when he said this last, and suddenly flung a cushion from his chair at the two.

There ensued a brief scuffle with pillows and cushions, but they stopped, breathless and laughing after only a couple of minutes.

"Now look what you've done, lads! I'm all wrinkled!" He stood up to check himself in the full-length mirror in the corner of his room. "I'll have to change my shirt!"

Bilbo and Siggy exchanged a knowing look; Chop was fun and full of ideas, and he was a loyal friend, but he also had always been very vain about his appearance. They watched as he pulled out and discarded at least three shirts from his wardrobe before he found one that he thought would be right, and after shrugging into it, took his time deciding which studs he wanted to wear with it. Then he considered and changed his mind about changing his braces. Once he was all tucked in he pulled out two different waistcoats and held them side by side as he looked in the mirror. He looked at them briefly. "Do you think-no, never mind, I can see you are laughing at me!"

His cousins had not even snickered, but it was clear from their red faces and puffed out cheeks that they were trying to hold in their laughter. This wasn't the first time they'd watched him behaving this way. "The green and gold one, I think."

Once he was into his waistcoat, he went to his dresser and took up his brushes. Head first, he brushed his hair carefully. Then he took up his footbrush, paying special attention to the thick hair nearest his toes. He put the brushes back and picked up a small silver jar, opened it and dipped a finger in. Then he rubbed the pomade through his fingers, and then through his curls on both head and feet. He looked in the mirror again, and using one finger, he reached up and drew one curl around it and down over his forehead. He smirked at his reflection, and took his jacket off the stand on which it hung. Shrugging it on, he tugged at it until it hung just right. Then he turned this way and that as he looked in the mirror.

"You are a dandy, don't you know?" grinned Bilbo.

"He's worse than a lass," added Siggy.

"You'll understand when you're older, lads," he said. Then he laughed. "I _am_ a dandy, I know that! But what can I do? I have to maintain the image, you know!" Adalgrim had the sense to recognise his vanity and to laugh at himself-but it did not stop him from preening.

He looked at the clock which hung on the wall by his door. It had been a coming-of-age gift from his grandparents-there was a little wooden bird that came out and sang on the hour. "Oh thunder!" he swore. "I promised to meet Periwinkle after the party, so we'd have time together before supper. You don't mind seeing yourselves out, do you, cousins?"

"No, no," Bilbo waved his hand airily. "Just be off with you; desert us for your lass!"

"After all," added Siggy, "come this Sterday you'll get to see her every day for the rest of your life."

"I knew you'd understand," he laughed, and he darted out the door.

Bilbo and Siggy looked at each other. "He's as full of himself as he ever was," said Bilbo.

"He definitely needs taking down a peg," added Siggy.

"I think I have an idea." Bilbo got up and went over to the dresser and picked up the jar of pomade and the hair brush. "What if..."

Siggy looked at Bilbo with admiration. "Now _that_ is a prank worthy of our cousin, if ever one was!"

xxxxxxx

***Author's Note:** You may recognize the title of this chapter as a song lyric. In case you do not, it comes from Carly Simon's classic hit "You're So Vain".


End file.
